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SHAKESPEARE’S 


ENGLISH 

CLASSICS. 

Edited  by  WM. 

J.  ROLFE,  A.M. 

Illustrated.  161110,  Cloth,  56  cents  per  volume  ; Paper,  40  cents  per  volume. 

Shakespeare’s  Works. 

The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

Othello. 

All ’s  Well  that  Ends  Well. 

Julius  Cassar. 

Coriolanus. 

A Midsummer-Night’s  Dream. 

The  Comedy  of  Errors. 

Macbeth. 

Cymbeline. 

Hamlet. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

As  You  Like  It. 

Love’s  Labour  ’s  Lost. 

The  Tempest. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

Twelfth  Night. 

Tim  on  of  Athens. 

The  Winter’s  Tale. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 

King  John. 

Henry  VI.  Part  I.  , 

Richard  II. 

Henry  VI.  Part  II. 

Henry  IV.  Part  I. 

Henry  VI.  Part  III. 

Henry  IV.  Part  II. 

Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 

Henry  V. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 

Richard  III. 

Venus  and  Adonis,  Lucrece,  etc. 

Henry  VIII. 

Sonnets. 

King  Lear. 

Titus  Andronicus. 

Goldsmith’s  Select  Poems. 

Gray’s  Select  Poems 

Published  by  HARPER  & 

BROTHERS,  New  York. 

Any  of  the  above  works  will  be  sent  by  mail , postage  prepaid , to  any  part 

of  the  United  States , on  receipt  of  the  price. 

| 

Copyright,  1883,  by  Harper  & Brothers. 


THE  DEATH  OF  LUCK EC1£. 


INTRODUCTION 

TO 

SHAKESPEARE’S  POEMS. 


I.  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  POEMS. 

Venus  and  Adonis  was  first  published  in  quarto  form,  in 
1593,  with  the  following  title-page  : * 

Venvs  I and  adonis  | Vilia  miretur  vulgus : mihi  flauus 
Apollo  | Pocula  Castalia  plena  mmistret  aqua . | London  | 
Imprinted  by  Richard  Field,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  | the 
signe  of  the  white  Greyhound  in  ] Paules  Church-yard.  | 
1593- 

* For  this  title-page,  as  well  as  for  much  of  the  other  information  we 
have  given  concerning  the  early  editions,  we  are  indebted  to  the  “Cam- 
bridge ” ed. 


10 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


1 he  book  is  printed  with  remarkable  accuracy,  doubtless 
from  the  author’s  manuscript. 

A second  quarto  edition  was  published  in  1594,  the  title- 
page  of  which  differs  from  that  of  the  first  only  in  the  date. 

A third  edition  in  octavo  form  (like  all  the  subsequent 
editions)  was  issued  in  1596  from  the  same  printing-office 
“ for  Iohn  Harison.” 

A fourth  edition  was  published  in  1599,  with  the  following 
title-page  (as  given  in  Edmonds’s  reprint)  : 

VENVS  | AND  ADONIS.  | Villa  miretur  vulgus : mi  hi 
flauus  Apollo  | Pocula  Castalia  plena  ministret  aqua,  j Im- 
printed at  London  for  William  Leake,  dwel-  | ling  in  Paules 
Churchyard  at  the  signe  of  | the  Greyhound.  1599. 

This  edition  was  not  known  until  .1867,  when  a copy  of  it 
was  discovered  at  Lamport  Hall  in  Northamptonshire  by 
Mr.  Charles  Edmonds,  who  issued  a fac-simile  reprint  of  it 
in  1870.  Of  course  it  is  not  included  in  the  collation  of  the 
Cambridge  ed.,  which  was  published  before  the  discovery  f 
but  it  was  evidently  printed  from  the  3d  edition.  Mr.  Ed- 
monds says:  “A  few  corrections  are  introduced,  but  they 
bear  no  proportion  to  the  misprints.” 

Of  the  fifth  edition  a single  copy  is  in  existence  (in  the 
Bodleian  Library),  lacking  the  title-page,  which  has  been 
restored  in  manuscript  with  the  following  imprint:  “Lon- 
don | Printed  by  I.  H.  | for  Iohn  Harrison  | 1600.”  The 
date  may  be  right,  but,  according  to  Halliwell  f and  Edmonds, 
the  publisher’s  name  must  be  wrong,  as  Harrison  had  as- 
signed the  copyright  to  Leake  four  years  previous.  The 
Cambridge  editors  assumed  in  1 866  that  this  edition  (the 
4th  of  their  numbering)  was  printed  from  that  of  1596;  but 
it  is  certain,  since  the  discovery  of  the  1599  ed.,  that  it 
must  have  been  based  on  that.  Of  the  text  they  say:  “It 

* It  is  omitted  by  Hudson  in  his  “ Harvard”  ed.  (see  account  of  early 
eds.  of  V.  and  A.  vol.  xix.  p.  279),  published  in  1881. 

t Outlines  0/  the  Life  of  Shakespeare  (2d  ed.  1882),  p.  222. 


INTRODUCTIO. 


M 


r . 
.X~*  1 


1 1 

seem, 

which 


contains  many  erroneous  readings,  due,  it  would 
partly  to  carelessness  and  partly  to  wilful  alteration 
were  repeated  in  later  eds.” 

Two  new  editions  were  issued  in  1602,  and  others  in  1617 
and  1620.  In  1627,  an  edition  (of  which  the  only  known 
copy  is  in  the  British  Museum)  was  published  in  Edinburgh. 
In  the  Bodleian  Library  there  is  a unique  copy  of  an  edi- 
tion wanting  the  title-page  but  catalogued  with  the  date 
1630;  also  a copy  of  another  edition,  published  in  1630 
(discovered  since  the  Cambridge  ed.  appeared)*  A thir- 
teenth edition  was  printed  in  1636,  “to  be  sold  by  Francis 
Coules  in  the  Old  Baily  without  Newgate.” 

The  first  edition  of  Lucrece  was  published  in  quarto  in 
1594,  with  the  following  title-page: 

LVCRECE.  | London.  | Printed  by  Richard  Field,  for 
Iohn  Harrison,  and  are  | to  be  sold  at  the  signe  of  the 
white  Greyhound  | in  Paules  Churh-yard.  1594. 

The  running  title  is  “The  Rape  of  Lvcrece.”  The  Bod- 
leian Library  has  two  copies  of  this  edition  which  differ  in 
some  important  readings,  indicating  that  it  was  corrected 
while  passing  through  the  press,  t 

A second  edition  appeared  in  1598,  a third  in  1600,  and 
a fourth  in  1607,  all  in  octavo  and  all  “for  Iohn  Harrison” 
(or  “ Harison  ”). 

In  1616,  the  year  of  Shakespeare’s  death,  the  poem  was 
reprinted  with  his  name  as  “newly  revised;”  but  “as  the 
readings  are  generally  inferior  to  those  of  the  earlier  edi- 
tions, there  is  no  reason  for  attaching  any  importance  to 
an  assertion  which  was  merely  intended  to  allure  purchas- 
ers ” (Camb.  ed.).  The  title-page  of  this  edition  reads  thus  : 


* Bibliographical  Contributions , edited  by  J.  Winsor,  Librarian  of  Har- 
vard University  : No.  2.  Shakespeare's  Poems  (1879).  This  Bibliography 
of  the  earlier  editions  of  the  Poems  contains  much  valuable  and  curious 
information  concerning  their  history,  the  extant  copies,  repiints,  etc. 

t On  variations  of  this  kind  in  the  early  editions,  cf.  The  Two  Noble 
Kinsmen , p.  10. 


12 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


THE  | RAPE  | OF  | Z VCR  EC E.  | By  { W William 
Shakespeare.  | Newly  Reuised.  | LONDON : | Printed  by  T. 
S.  for  Roger  Jackson,  and  are  | to  be  solde  at  his  shop  neere 
the  Conduit  | in  Fleet-street.  1616. 

A sixth  edition,  also  printed  for  Jackson,  was  issued  in 
1624. 

The  fifth  and  sixth  editions  differ  considerably  in  their 
leadings  from  the  first  four,  in  which  there  are  no  important 
variations. 

A Lover's  Complaint  was  first  printed,  so  far  as  we  know, 
in  the  first  edition  of  the  Sonnets,  which  appeared  in  1609. 

The  Passionate  Pilgrim  was  first  published  in  1599,  with 
the  following  title-page  : 

THE  | PASSIONATE  | Pilgrime.  | By  W.  Shakespeare. 

| AT  LONDON  | Printed  for  W.  laggard,  and  are  | to  be 
sold  by  W0  Leake,  at  the  Grey-  | hound  in  Paules  Church- 
yard. | 1599. 

In  the  middle  of  sheet  C is  a second  title: 

SONNETS  | To  sundry  notes  of  Musicke.  | AT  LON- 
DON | Printed  for  W.  laggard,  and  are  | to  be  sold  by  W. 
Leake,  at  the  Grey-  | hound  in  Paules  Churchyard. 

1 he  book  was  reprinted  in  1612,  together  with  some  po- 
ems by  I homas  Heywood,  the  whole  being  attributed  to 
Shakespeare.  The  title  at  first  stood  thus  : 

THE  | PASSIONATE  | PILGRIME.  | or  | Certaine 
Amorous  Sonnets , | betweene  Venus  and  Adonis,  | newly 
corrected  and  aug-  | mented.  | By  W.  Shakespere.  | The  third 
Edition.  | Whereunto  is  newly  ad-  | ded  two  Loue-Epistles, 
the  first  | from  Paris  to  LLellen1  and  | Hellens  answere  backe  | 
againe  to  Paris . | Printed  by  W.  laggard.  | 1612. 

The  Bodleian  copy  of  this  edition  contains  the  following 
note  by  Malone:  “All  the  poems  from  Sig.  D.  5 were  writ- 
ten. by  Thomas  Heywood,  who  was  so  offended  at  Jaggard 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


for  printing  them  under  the  name  of  Shakespeaie  that  he 
has  added  a postscript  to  his  Apology  for  Actors , 4to,  1612, 
on  this  subject;  and  Jaggard  in  consequence  of  it  appears 
to  have  printed  a new  title-page  to  please  Heywood,  with- 
out the  name  of  Shakespeare  in  it.  The  former  title-page 
was  no  doubt  intended  to  be  cancelled,  but  by  some  inad- 
vertence they  were  both  prefixed  to  this  copy  and  I have 
retained  them  as  a curiosity.” 

The  corrected  title-page  is,  except  in  the  use  of  Italic  and 
Roman  letters,  the  same  as  above,  omitting  “ By  W.  Shake - 
spere." 

It  will  be  observed  that  this  is  called  the  third  edition  ; 
but  no  other  between  1599  ar>d  1612  is  known  to  exist. 

In  1640  a number  of  the  Sonnets , some  of  the  poems  from 
The  Passionate  Pilgrim , and  A Lover' s Complaint , together 
with  some  translations  from  Ovid  and  other  pieces  evidently 
not  by  Shakespeare,  were  published  in  a volume  with  the 
following  title : 

POEMS : | Written  | by  | Wil.  Shake-speare.  | Gent.  | 
Printed  at  London  by  Tho.  Cotes , and  aie  | to  be  sold  by 
John  Benson , dwelling  in  | S‘.  Dunstans  Church-yard.  1640. 

The  first  complete  edition  of  Shakespeare’s  Poems,  in- 
cluding the  Sonnets,  was  issued  (according  to  Lowndes, 
Bibliographer’s  Manual ) in  1709,  with  the  following  title  : 

A Collection  of  Poems,  in  Two  Volumes  ; Being  all  the 
Miscellanies  of  Mr.  William  Shakespeare , which  were  Pub- 
lish’d by  himself  in  the  Year  1609,  and  now  correctly  Print- 
ed from  those  Editions.  The  First  Volume  contains,  I.  Ve- 
nus and  Adonis.  II.  The  Rape  of  Lucrece.  III.  The 
Passionate  Pilgrim.  IV.  Some  Sonnets  set  to  sundry  Notes 
of  Musick.  The  Second  Volume  contains  One  Hundred  and 
Fifty  Four  Sonnets,  all  of  them  in  Praise  of  his  Mistress.  II. 
A Lover’s  Complaint  of  his  Angry  Mistress.  LONDON: 
Printed  for  Bernard  Lintott , at  the  Cross-Keys,  between  the 
Two  Temple-Gates  in  Fleet-street. 


!4  SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 

The  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle  first  appeared,  with  Shake- 
speare’s name  appended  to  it,  in  Robert  Chester’s  Loves 
Martyr:  or  Rosalins  Complaint,  published  in  1601  (reprint- 
ed by  the  New  Shakspere  Society  in  1878). 

The  earliest  reference  to  the  Venus  and  Adonis  that  has 
been  found  is  in  the  famous  passage  in  Meres’s  Palladis 
Tamia  (see  M.  N.  D.  p.  9,  and  C.  of  E.  p.  101).  As  to  the 
date  of  its  composition,  Dowden  says  {Primer,  p.  81) : “When 
Venus  and  Adorns  appeared,  Shakspere  was  twenty-nine  years 
of  age  ; the  Earl  of  Southampton,  to  whom  it  was  dedicated, 
was  not  yet  twenty.  In  the  dedication  the  poet  speaks  of 
these  ‘unpolisht  lines’  as  ‘the  first  heire  of  my  invention.’ 
Did  Shakspere  mean  by  this  that  Venus  and  Adonis  was  writ- 
ten before  any  of  his  plays,  or  before  any  plays  that  were 
strictly  original— his  own  ‘ invention  ?’  or  does  he,  setting 
plays  altogether  apart,  which  were  not  looked  upon  as  litef 
ature,  in  a high  sense  of  the  word,  call  it  his  first  poem  be- 
cause he  had  written  no  earlier  narrative  or  lyrical  verse? 
We  cannot  be  sure.  It  is  possible,  but  not  likely,  that  he 
may  have  written  this  poem  before  he  left  Stratford,  and 
have  brought  it  up  with  him  to  London.  More  probably  it 
was  written  in  London,  and  perhaps  not  long  before  its  pub- 
lication. 1 he  year  i593>  *n  which  the  poem  appeared,  was  a 
year  of  plague  ; the  London  theatres  were  closed  : it  may  be 
that  Shakspere,  idle  in  London,  or  having  returned  for  a while 
to  Stratford,  then  wrote  the  poem.”  Even  if  begun  some 
years  earlier,  it  was  probably  revised  not  long  before  its 
publication. 

The  Lucrece  was  not  improbably  the  “graver  labour” 
promised  in  the  dedication  of  the  Venus  and  Adonis ; and, 
as  Dowden  remarks,  it  “exhibits  far  less  immaturity  than 
does  the  ‘first  heire ’ of  Shakspere’s  invention.”  It  is  less 
hkely  than  that,  we  think,  to  have  been  a youthful  produc- 
tion taken  up  and  elaborated  at  a later  date. 

A Lover  s Complaint  was  evidently  written  long  after  the 


INTRODUCTION. 


*5 

Lucrece,  but  we  have  no  means  of  fixing  the  time  with  any 
precision. 

The  Shakespearian  poems  in  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  were 
of  course  written  before  1599,  when  the  collection  was  pub- 
lished. The  three  taken  from  Love’s  Labour’s  Lost  must  be 
as  early  as  the  date  of  that  play  (see  our  ed.  p.  10).  If  the 
Venus  and  Adonis  sonnets  are  Shakespeare’s,  they  may  have 
fbeen  experiments  on  the  subject  before  writing  the  long 
poem;  but  Furnivall  says  that  they  are  “ so  much  easier  in 
flow  and  lighter  in  handling”  that  he  cannot  suppose  them 
to  be  earlier  than  the  poem. 

The  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle  is  almost  certainly  Shake- 
speare’s, and  must  have  been  written  before  1601. 

IT.  THE  SOURCES  OF  THE  POEMS. 

The  story  of  the  Venus  and  Adonis  -was  doubtless  taken 
from  Ovid’s  Metamorphoses , which  had  been  translated  by 
Golding  in  1567.  Shakespeare  was  probably  acquainted 
with  this  translation  at  the  time  of  the  composition  of  The 
Tempest  (see  our  ed.  p.  139,  note  on  Ye  elves , etc.) ; but  we 
have  no  clear  evidence  that  he  made  use  of  it  in  writing 
Venus  and  Adonis.  He  does  not  follow  Ovid  very  closely. 
That  poet  “ relates,  shortly,  that  Venus,  accidentally  wound- 
ed by  an  arrow  of  Cupid’s,  falls  in  love  with  the  beauteous 
Adonis,  leaves  her  favourite  haunts  and  the  skies  for  him, 
and  follows  him  in  his  huntings  over  mountains  and  bushy 
rocks,  and  through  woods.  She  warns  him  against  wild 
boars  and  lions.  She  and  he  lie  down  in  the  shade  on  the 
grass — he  without  pressure  on  her  part  ; and  there,  with  her 
bosom  on  his,  she  tells  him,  with  kisses,*  the  story  of  how 
she  helped  Hippomenes  to  win  the  swift-footed  Atalanta, 
and  then,  because  he  was  ungrateful  to  her  (Venus),  she 
excited  him  and  his  wife  to  defile  a sanctuary  by  a forbidden 

* “And,  in  her  tale,  she  bussed  him  among.” — A.  Golding.  Ovid’s 
Met.,  leaf  129  bk.,  ed.  1602. 


j6 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


act,  for  which  they  were  both  turned  into  lions.  With  a final 
warning  against  wild  beasts,  Venus  leaves  Adonis.  He  then 
hunts  a boar,  and  gets  his  death-wound  from  it.  Venus 
comes  down  to  see  him  die,  and  turns  his  blood  into  a flow- 
er—the  anemone,  or  wind-flower,  short-lived,  because  the 
winds  ( anemoi ),  which  give  it  its  name,  beat  it  down,*  so 
slendei  is  it.  Other  authors  give  Venus  the  enjoyment 
which  Ovid  and  Shakspere  deny  her,  and  bring  Adonis  backx 
from  Hades  to  be  with  her  ” (Furnivall). 

1 he  main  incidents  of  the  Lucrece  were  doubtless  familiar 
to  Shakespeare  from  his  school-days ; and  they  had  been  used 
again  and  again  in  poetry  and  prose.  “ Chaucer  had,  in  his 
Legende  of  Good  Women  (a.d.  1386  ?),  told  the  story  of  Lu- 
ciece,  after  those  of  Cleopatra,  Dido,  Thisbe,  Ypsiphile,  and 
Medea,  ‘As  sayt’ne  Ovyde  and  Titus  Lyvyus ’ (Ovid’s  Fasti, 
bk.  ii.  741 ; Livy,  bk.  i.  ch.  57,  58):  the  story  is  also  told 
by  Dionysius  Halicarnassensis,  bk.  iv.  ch.  72,  and  by  Dio- 
dorus Siculus,  Dio  Cassius,  and  Valerius  Maximus.  In  Eng- 
lish it  is  besides  in  Lydgate’s  Fades  of  Princes,  bk.  iii.  ch.  5, 
and  in  Wm.  Painter’s  Palace  of  Pleasure,  1567,  vol.  i.  fol.  5-7’ 
where  the  story  is  very  shortly  told  : the  heading  is  ‘Sextus 
1 arquinius  lavisheth  Luciece,  who  bewailyng  the  losse  of  her 
c Ii ast i tie,  killeth  her  self.  I cannot  find  the  story  in  the 
Rouen  edition,  1603,  of  Boaistuau  and  Belleforest’s  Histoires 
Tragiques,  7 vols.  i2mo ; or  the  Lucca  edition,  1554,  of  the 
Novelle  of  Bandello,  3 parts ; or  the  Lyons  edition,  1573,  of 
the  Pourth  Part.  Painter’s  short  Lucrece  must  have  been 
taken  by  himself  from  one  of  the  Latin  authors  he  cites  as 
his  originals  at  the  end  of  his  preface.  In  1368,  was  entered 
on  the  Stat.  Reg.  A,  If.  174,  a receipt  for  4 d.  from  Jn.  Aide 
‘for  his  lycense  for  prynting  of  a ballett,  the  grevious  com- 
flaynt  of  Lucrece'  (Arber’s  Transcript,  i.  379)  ; and  in  1570 
the  like  from  ‘James  Robertes,  for  his  lycense  for  the  prynt- 
* Pliny  (bk.  i.  c.  23)  says  it  never  opens  but  when  the  wind  is  blow- 


IN  TR  OD  UC  TION. 


17 


inge  of  a ballett  intituled  The  Death  of  Lucryssia  ’ (Arber’s 
Transcript,  i.  416).  Another  ballad  of  the  legend  of  Lu- 
crece  was  also  printed  in  1576,  says  Warton.  (Far.  Shak- 
speare,  xx.  100.)  Chaucer’s  simple,  short  telling  of  the  story 
in  206  lines— of  which  95  are  taken  up  with  the  visit  of 
Collatyne  and  Tarquynyus  to  Rome,  before  Shakspere’s 
start  with  Tarquin’s  journey  thither  alone  — cannot  of 
course  compare  with  Shakspere’s  rich  and  elaborate  poem 
of  1855  lines,  though,  had  the  latter  had  more  of  the  ear- 
lier maker’s  brevity,  it  would  have  attained  greater  fame” 
(Furnivall). 

III.  CRITICAL  COMMENTS  ON  THE  POEMS. 

[From  Knight's  “ Pictorial  Shakspere."  *] 

“If  the  first  heir  of  my  invention  prove  deformed,  I shall 
be  sorry  it  had  so  noble  a godfather.”  These  are  the  words 
which,  in  relation  to  the  Venus  and  Adonis,  Shakspere  ad- 
dressed, in  1593,  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton.  Are  we  to 
accept  them  literally?  Was  the  Venus  and  Adonis  the  first 
production  of  Shakspere’s  imagination  ? Or  did  he  put  out 
of  his  view  those  dramatic  performances  which  he  had  then 
unquestionably  produced,  in  deference  to  the  critical  opin- 
ions which  regarded  plays  as  works  not  belonging  to  “ inven- 
tion ” ? We  think  that  he  used  the  words  in  a literal  sense. 
We  regard  the  Venus  and  Adonis  as  the  production  of  a very 
young  man,  improved,  perhaps,  considerably  in  the  interval 
between  its  first  composition  and  its  publication,  but  distin- 
guished by  peculiarities  which  belong  to  the  wild  luxuriance 
of  youthful  power,— such  power,  however,  as  few  besides 
Shakspere  have  ever  possessed. 

A deep  thinker  and  eloquent  wrriter,  Julius  Charles  Hare, 
thus  describes  “the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,”  as  applied  to 
poetry  : 

“ The  might  of  the  imagination  is  manifested  by  its  launch- 
* Vol.  ii.  of  Tragedies,  etc.,  p.  509  fol. 

B 


1 8 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


ing  forth  from  the  petty  creek,  where  the  accidents  of  birth 
moored  it,  into  the  wide  ocean  of  being, — by  its  going  abroad 
into  the  world  around,  passing  into  whatever  it  meets  with, 
animating  it,  and  becoming  one  with  it.  This  complete  union 
and  identification  of  the  poet  with  his  poem,— this  suppres- 
sion of  his  own  individual  insulated  consciousness,  with  its 
narrowness  of  thought  and  pettiness  of  feeling, — is  what  we 
admire  in  the  great  masters  of  that  which  for  this  reason  we 
justly  call  classical  poetry,  as  representing  that  which  is 
symbolical  and  universal,  not  that  which  is  merely  occasional 
and  peculiar.  1 his  gives  them  that  majestic  calmness  which 
still  breathes  upon  us  from  the  statues  of  their  gods.  This 
invests  their  works  with  that  lucid  transparent  atmosphere 
wherein  every  form  stands  out  in  perfect  definiteness  and 
distinctness,  only  beautified  by  the  distance  which  idealizes 
it.  This  has  delivered  those  works  from  the  casualties  of 
time  and  space,  and  has  lifted  them  up  like  stars  into  the 
pure  firmament  of  thought,  so  that  they  do  not  shine  on  one 
spot  alone,  nor  fade  like  earthly  flowers,  but  journey  on 
from  clime  to  clime,  shedding  the  light  of  beauty  on  genera- 
tion after  generation.  The  same  quality,  amounting  to  a to- 
tal extinction  of  his  own  selfish  being,  so  that  his  spirit  be- 
came a mighty  organ  through  which  Nature  gave  utterance 
to  the  full  diapason  of  her  notes,  is  what  we  wonder  at  in 
our  own  great  dramatist,  and  is  the  groundwork  of  all  his 
other  powers  : for  it  is  only  when  purged  of  selfishness  that 
the  intellect  becomes  fitted  for  receiving  the  inspirations  of 
genius.”* 

What  Mr.  Hare  so  justly  considers  as  the  great  moving 
principle  of  “classical  poetry,” — what  he  further  notes  as 
the  pre-eminent  characteristic  of  “our  own  great  drama- 
tist,”— is  abundantly  found  in  that  great  dramatist's  earliest 
work.  Coleridge  was  the  first  to  point  out  this  pervading 

* The  Victory  of  Faith  ; and  other  Sermons,  by  Julius  Charles  Hare, 
M.A.  (1840),  p.  277. 


//  v ik- 

INTRODUCTION.  19 

i O ft  P)  vr 

quality  in  the  ««</  ^ he  ^ :done  this 

so  admirably  that  it  would  be  profanation  were-  we  to 
attempt  to  elucidate  the  point  in  any  other  than  his  own 

words : ...  ... 

“ It  is  throughout  as  if  a superior  spirit,  more  intuitive, 

more  intimately  conscious,  even  than  the  characters  them- 
selves, not  only  of  every  outward  look  and  act,  but  of  the 
flux  and  reflux  of  the  mind  in  all  its  subtlest  thoughts  and 
feelings,  were  placing  the  whole  before  our  view;  himself 
meanwhile  unparticipating  in  the  passions,  and  actuated 
only  by  that  pleasurable  excitement  which  had  resulted  from 
the  energetic  fervour  of  his  own  spirit  in  so  vividly  exhibit- 
ing what  it  had  so  accurately  and  profoundly  contemplated. 

I fliinfi  I should  have  conjectured  from  these  poems  that 
even  then  the  great  instinct  which  impelled  the  poet  to  the 
drama  was  secretly  working  in  him,  prompting  him  by  a se- 
ries find  never-broken  chain  of  imagery,  always  vivid,  and, 
becaflse  unbroken,  often  minute— by  the  highest  effort  of  the 
picturesque  in  words  of  which  words  are  capable,  higher 
perhaps  than  was  ever  realized  by  any  other  poet,  even 
Dante  hot  excepted— to  provide  a substitute  for  that  visual 
language^that  constant  intervention  and  running  comment 
by  tone,  look,  and  gesture,  which  in  his  dramatic  works  he 
was  entitled  to  expect  from  the  players.  His  Venus  and 
Adonis  seem  at  once  the  characters  themselves,  and  the 
whole  representation  of  those  characters  by  the  most  con- 
summate actors.  You  seem  to  be  told  nothing,  but  to  see 
and  hear  everything.  Hence  it  is,  that,  from  the  perpetual 
~ac t i v fty~of"a  1 1 e n t i o n required  on  the  part  of  the  reader, 
from  the  rapid  flow,  the  quick  change,  and  the  playful  nature 
of  the  thoughts  and  images, — and,  above  all,  from  the  alien- 
ation,  and,  if  I may  hazard  such  an  expression,  the  utter 
' -gttmfmss  of  the  poet’s  own  fe e 1 i 11  gsjro m ill QS£. of -W h 1 c h he  is 

aF  once  the  painter  and  the  analyst, — that  though  the  very 

subject  cannot  but  detract  from  the  pleasure  of  a delicate 


20 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


mind,  yet  never  was  poem  less  dangerous  on  a moral  ac- 
count.” # 

Coleridge,  in  the  preceding  chapter  of  his  Literary  Life, 
says:  “During  the  first  year  that  Mr.  Wordsworth  and  I 
were  neighbours,  our  conversations  turned  frequently  on  the 
two  cardinal  points  of  poetry — the  power  of  exciting  the 
sympathy  of  the  reader  by  a faithful  adherence  to  the  truth 
of  nature,  and  the  power  of  giving  the  interest  of  novelty  by 
the  modifying  colours  of  imagination.”  In  Coleridge’s  Lit- 
erary Remains  the  Venus  and  Adonis  is  cited  as  furnishing 
a signal  example  of  “ that  affectionate  love  of  nature  and 
natural  objects,  witboufwlfich  no  man  could  have  observed 
so  steadily,  or  painted  so  truly  and  passionately,  the  very 
minutest  beauties  of  the  external  world.”  The  description 
of  the  hare-hunt  is  there  given  at  length  as  a specimen  of 
this  power.  A remarkable  proof  of  the  completeness  as  well 
as  accuracy  of  Shakspere’s  description  lately  presented  itself 
to  our  mind,  in  running  through  a little  volume,  full  of  tal- 
ent, published  in  ^2$— Essays  and  Sketches  of  Character,  by 
the  late  Richard  Ayton,  Esq.  There  is  a paper  on  hunting, 
and  especially  on  hare-hunting.  He  says  : “ I am  not  one 
of  the  perfect  fox-hunters  of  these  realms  ; but  having  been 
in  the  way  of  late  of  seeing  a good  deal  of  various  modes  of 
hunting,  I would,  for  the  benefit  of  the  uninitiated,  set  down 
the  results  of  my  observations.”  In  this  matter  he  writes  with 
a perfect  unconsciousness  that  he  is  describing  what  any  onfe 
has  described  before  ; but  as  accurate  an  observer  had  been 
tjefore  him : 

“ She  (the  hare)  generally  returns  to  the  seat  from  which 
she  was  put  up,  running,  as  all  the  world  knows,  in  a circle, 
or  something  sometimes  like  it,  we  had  better  say,  that  we 
may  keep  on  good  terms  with  the  mathematical.  At  start- 
ing, she  tears  away  at  her  utmost  speed  for  a mile  or  more, 
and  distances  the  dogs  half-way  : she  then  returns,  diverging 
* Biographia  Literaria , 1817,  vol.  ii.  p.  15. 


INTR  OD  UC  7 ION. 


21 

a little  to  the  right  or  left,  that  she  may  not  run  into  the 
mouths  of  her  enemies  — a necessity  which  accounts  for 
what  we  call  the  circularity  of  her  course.  Her  flight  from 
home  is  direct  and  precipitate  ; but  on  her  way  back,  when 
she  has  gained  a little  time  for  consideration  and  stiata- 
gem,  she  describes  a curious  labyrinth  ot  short  turnings  and 
windings,  as  if  to  perplex  the  dogs  by  the  intricacy  of  her 
track.” 

Compare  this  with  Shakspere  : 

“And  when  thou  hast  on  foot  the  purblind  hare, 

Mark  the  poor  wretch,  to  overshoot  his  troubles, 

How  he  outruns  the  wind,  and  with  what  care 
He  cranks  and  crosses,  with  a thousand  doubles  : 

The  many  musits  through  the  which  he  goes 
Are  like  a labyrinth  to  amaze  his  foes.” 

Mr.  Ayton  thus  goes  on  : 

u The  hounds,  whom  .we  left  in  full  cry,  continue  theii  mu- 
sic without  remission  as  long  as  they  are  faithful  to  the  scent , 
as  a summons,  it  should  seem,  like  the  seaman’s  cry,  to  pull 
together,  or  keep  together,  and  it  is  a certain  proof  to  them- 
selves and  their  followers  that  they  are  in  the  right  way. 
On  the  instant  that  they  are  ‘ at  fault,’  or  lose  the  scent,  they 
are  silent.  . . . The  weather,  in  its  impression  on  the  scent, 
is  the  great  father  of  ‘ faults  ;’  but  they  may  arise  from  other 
accidents,  even  when  the  day  is  in  every  respect  favourable. 
The  intervention  of  ploughed  land,  on  which  the  scent  soon 
cools  or  evaporates,  is  at  least  perilous ; but  sheep-stains, 
recently  left  by  a flock,  are  fatal  : they  cut  off  the  scent  irre- 
coverably— making  a gap,  as  it  were,  in  the  clue,  in  which 
the  dogs  have  not  even  a hint  for  their  guidance. 

Compare  Shakspere  again  : 

“ Sometime  he  runs  among  a flock  of  sheep, 

To  make  the  cunning  hounds  mistake  their  smell, 

And  sometime  where  earth-delving  conies  keep, 

To  stop  the  loud  pursuers  in  their  yell ; 


22 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


And  sometime  sorteth  with  a herd  of  deer ; 

Danger  deviseth  shifts  ; wit  waits  on  fear  ; 

“ For  there  his  smell  with  others  being  mingled, 

T.  he  hot  scent-snuffing  hounds  are  driven  to  doubt, 

Ceasing  their  clamorous  cry  till  they  have  singled 
With  much  ado  the  cold  fault  cleanly  out ; 

Then  do  they  spend  their  mouths:  Echo  replies, 

As  if  another  chase  were  in  the  skies.” 

One  more  extract  from  Mr.  Ay  ton  : 

“ Suppose  then,  after  the  usual  rounds,  that  you  see  the 
hare  at  last  (a  sorry  mark  for  so  many  foes)  sorely  beleaguered 
—looking  dark  and  draggled— and  limping  heavily  along; 
then  stopping  to  listen— again  tottering  on  a little— and 
again  stopping;  and  at  every  step,  and  every  pause,  hearing 
the  death-cry  grow  nearer  and  louder.” 

One  more  comparison,  and  we  have  exhausted  Shak- 
spere’s  description  :— 

“ By  this,  poor  Wat,  far  off  upon  a hill, 

Stands  on  his  hinder  legs  with  listening  ear, 

To  hearken  if  his  foes  pursue  him  still ; 

Anon  their  loud  alarums  he  doth  hear  ; 

And  now  his  grief  may  be  compared  well 
To  one  soie  sick  that  hears  the  passing-bell. 

“Then  shalt  thou  see  the  dew-bedabbled  wretch 
Turn  and  return,  indenting  with  the  way  ; 

Each  envious  briar  his  weary  legs  doth  scratch, 

Each  shadow  makes  him  stop,  each  murmur  stay : 

For  misery  is  trodden  on  by  many, 

And  being  low  never  reliev’d  by  any.” 

Here,  then,  be  it  observed,  are  not  only  the  same  objects, 
the  same  accidents,  the  same  movement,  in  each  descrip- 
tion, but  the  very  words  employed  to  convey  the  scene  to  the 
mind  are  often  the  same  in  each.  It  Vouldsbe  easy  to  say 
that  Mr.  Ayton  copied  Shakspere.  We  believe  he  did  not. 
There  is  a sturdy  ingenuousness  about  his  writings  which 
would  have  led  him  to  notice  the  Venus  and  Adonis  if  he 
had  had  it  in  his  mind.  Shakspere  and  he  had  each  looked 


introduction. 


2-3 


minutely  and  practically  upon  the  same  scene  ; and  the  won- 
der is  not  that  Shakspere  was  an  accurate  describer,  but  that 
jn  him  the  accurate  is  so  thoroughly  fused  with  the  poetical, 

that  it  is  one  ancl  tfie  same  life.  . 

The  celebrated  description  of  the  courser  in  the  Venus , 
ancTAdonis  is  another  remarkable  instance  of  the  accuiac> 
of  the  young  Shakspere’s  observation.  Not  the  most  expe- 
rienced-denier ever  knew  the  points  of  a horse  better  The 
wholepoem  indeed  is  full  of  evidence  that  the  circumstances 
by  which  the  writer  was  surrounded,  in  a country  dist 
hid  entered  deeply  into  his  mind,  ahd  were  Reproduced 
in  the  poetical  form.  The  bird  “tangled  n a net  -the 
‘‘didapper  peering  through  a wave ’’-the  “blue-veined  vio- 
lets the  *•  red  morn,  that  ever  yet  betoken’d  „ 

Wrack  10  the  seaman,  tempest  to  the  field  ’ 

the  fisher  that  forbears  the  “ ungrown  fry  ’’—the  slieep  “ gone 
to  fold  ’’—the  caterpillars  feeding  on  “ the  tender  ea 
and,  not  to  weary  with  examples,  that  exquisite  image, 

“ Look  how  a bright  star  shooteth  from  the  sky, 

"So~gIiderhe  in  tjie  night  from  Venus  eye 
all  these  bespeak  a poet  who  had  formed  himself  upon  nat 
ure  and  not  upon  books.  To  understand  the  value  as  well 
as  the  rarity  of  this  quality  in  Shakspere,  we  should  open 
“* ^temporary  poem.  Take  Marlowe’s  Hero  and  Lean- 
del  for  example.  We  read  line  after  line,  beauljful, ^geot* 
running  over  with  a satiating  luxuriousness ; but  we  look  in 
va?n  for  a single  familiar  image.  Shakspere  describes  wha 
le  has  seen,  throwing  over  the  real  the  dehcious  >r . o h 
own  imagination.  Marlowe  looks  at  Nature  herself  ver 
rarely;  but  he  knows  all  the  conventional  images  by  which 
the  real  is  supposed  to  be  elevated  into  the  poetical.  H. 
most  beautiful  things  are  thus  but  coptes  of  copms  Th 
mode  in  which  each  poet  describes  the  morning  will  illus 

trate  our  meaning : 


24 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


“ Lo  •’  liere  the  gentle  lark,  weary  of  rest, 

From  his  moist  cabinet  mounts  up  on  high, 

And  wakes  the  morning,  from  whose  silver  breast 
The  sun  ariseth  in  his  majesty; 

Who  doth  the  world  so  gloriously  behold, 

The  cedar-tops  and  hills  seem  burnish’d  gold.” 

VI  e feel  that  this  is  true.  Compare — 

“ By  this  Apollo’s  golden  harp  began 
I o sound  forth  music  to  the  ocean  ; 

Which  watchful  Hesperus  no  sooner  heard 
But  he  the  day’s  bright-bearing  car  prepar’d. 

And  ran  before,  as  harbinger  of  light, 

And  with  his  flaring  beams  mock'd  ugly  Night, 

Till  she,  o’ercome  with  anguish,  shame,  and  rage, 

Fang’d  down  to  hell  her  loathsome  carriage.” 

We  are  taught  that  this  is  classical. 

Coleridge  has  observed  that,  “ in  the  Venus  and  Adonis, 
the  first  and  most  obvious  excellence  is  the  perfect  sweet- 
ness of  the  versification;  its  adaptation  to  the  subject;  and 
the  power  displayed  in  varying  the  march  of  the  words  with- 
out passing  into  a loftier  and  more  majestic  rhythm  than  was 
demanded  by  the  thoughts,  or  permitted  by  the  propriety  of 
preserving  a sense  of  melody  predominant.”*  This  self- 
controlling power  of  “varying  the  march  of  the  words  with- 
out passing  into  a loftier  and  more  majestic  rhythm  ” is  per- 
haps one  of  the  most  signal  instances  of  Shakspere’s  consum- 
mate mastery  of  his  art,  even  as  a very  young  man.  He  who, 
at  the  proper  season,  knew  how  to  strike  the  grandest  music 
within  the  compass  of  our  own  powerful  and  sonorous  lan- 
guage, in  his  early  productions  breathes  out  his  thoughts 

“To  the  Dorian  mood 
Of  flutes  and  soft  recorders.” 

The  sustained  sweetness  of  the  versification  is  never  cloy- 
ing; and  yet  there  are  no  violent  contrasts,  no  sudden  ele- 
vations: all  is  equable  in  its  infinite  variety.  The  early 

* Biographia  Liter  aria,  vol.  ii.  p.  14. 


INTRODUCTION. 


25 


comedies  are  full  of  the  same  rare  beauty.  In  Love's  La- 
bour 's  Lost— The  Comedy  of  Errors— A Midsummer-Night's 
Dream — we  have  verses  of  alternate  rhymes  formed  upon  the 
same  model  as  those  of  the  Venus  and  Adonis , and  producing 
the  same  feeling  oLplacid  delight  by  their  exquisite  harmony. 
The  same  principles  on  wRTclTKe  built  the  versification  of 
the  Venus  and  Adonis  exhibited  to  him  the  grace  which  these 
elegiac  harmonies  would  impart  to  the  scenes  of  repose  in 
the  progress  of  a dramatic  action. 

We  proceed  to  the  Lucrece.  Of  that  poem  the  date  of 
the  composition  is  fixed  as  accurately  as  we  can  desire. 
In  the  dedication  to  the  Venus  and  Adorns  the  poet  says : 

“ If  vour  honour  seem  but  pleased  I account  myself  highly 
praised,  and  vow  to  take  advantage  of  all  idle  hours  till  I 
have  honoured  you  with  some  graver  labour.”  In  1594,  a 
year  after  the  Venus  and  Adonis,  Lucrece  was  published,  and 
was  dedicated  to  Lord  Southampton.  This,  then,  was  un- 
doubtedly the  “graver  labour  this  was  the  produce  of  the 
“idle  hours”  of  1593-  Shakspere  was  then  nearly  thiity 
years  of  age — the  period  at  which  it  is  held  by  some  he  first 
began  to  produce  anything  original  for  the  stage.  I he  poet 
unquestionably  intended  the  “graver  labour”  for  a higher 
effort  than  had  produced  the  “first  heir”  of  his  invention. 
He  describes  the  Venus  and  Adonis  as  “unpolished  lines”— 
lines  thrown  off  with  youthful  luxuriousness  and  rapidity. 
The  verses  of  the  Lucrece  are  “untutored  lines”  — lines 
formed  upon  no  established  model.  There  is  to  our  mind  the 
difference  of  eight  or  even  ten  years  in  the  aspect  of  these 
poems— a difference  as  manifest  as  that  which  exists  between 
Love's  Labour  's  Lost  and  Romeo  and  'Juliet.  Coleridge  has 
marked  the  great  distinction  between  the  one  poem  and  the 

other:  , . . 

“The  Venus  and  Adonis  did  not  perhaps  allow  the  display 

of  the  deeper  passions^  But  the  story  of  Lucretia  seems  to 
favour,  and  even  demand,  their  intensest  workings.  And 


26 


SHA KESPEA  RE'S  POEMS. 

yet  we  find  in  Shakespeare's  management  of  the  tale  neither 
pathos  nor  any  other  dramatic  quality.  There  is  the  same 
minute  and  faithful  imagery  as  in  the  former  poem,  in  the 
same  vivid  colours,  inspirited  by  the  same  impetuous  vigour 
of  thought,  and  diverging  and  contracting  with  the  same  ac- 
tivity of  the  assimilative  and  of  the  modifying  faculties;  and 
with  a yet  larger  display,  a yet  wider  range  of  knowledge  and 
reflection  : and,  lastly,  with  the  same  perfect  dominion,  often 
domination , over  the  whole  world  of  language.”* 

It  is  in  this  paragraph  that  Coleridge  ha&s  marked  the  dif- 
ference— which  a critic  of  the  very  highest  order  could  alone 
have  pointed  out  between  the  power  which  Shakspere’s 
mind  possessed  of  going  out  of  itself  in  a narrative  poem, 
and  the  dramatic  power.  The  same  mighty,  and  to  most 
unattainable,  power,  of  utterly  subduing  the  self-conscious 
to  the  universal,  was  essential  to  the  highest  excellence  of 
both  species  of  composition,  — the  poem  and  the  drama. 
But  the  exercise  of  that  power  was  essentially  different  in 
each.  Coleridge,  in  another  place,  says:  “In  his  very  first 
production  he  projected  his  mind  out  of  his  own  particular 
being,  and  felt,  and  made  others  feel,  on  subjects  no  way 
connected  with  himself  except  by  force  of  contemplation, 
and  that  sublime  faculty  by  which  a great  mind  becomes 
that  on  which  it  meditates.”!  But  this  “sublime  faculty” 
went  gieatly  farther  when  it  became  dramatic.  In  the  nar- 
rative poems  of  an  ordinary  man  we  perpetually  see  the  nar- 
rator. Coleridge,  in  a passage  previously  quoted,  has  shown 
the  essential  superiority  of  Shakspere’s  narrative  poems, 
where  the  whole  is  placed  before  our  view,  the  poet  unpar- 
ticipating in  the  passions.  There  is  a remarkable  example 
of  how  strictly  Shakspere  adhered  to  this  principle  in  his 
beautiful  poem  of  A Lover's  Complaint.  There  the  poet  is 
actually  present  to  the  scene  : 

* Biographia  Li  ter  aria,  vol.  ii.  p.  21. 

t Literary  Remains , vol.  ii.  p.  54. 


IN.TROD  UC  7 ION. 


27 


“ From  off  a hill  whose  concave  womb  re-worded 
A plaintful  story  from  a sistering  vale, 

My  spirits  to  attend  this  double  voice  accorded, 

And  down  I laid  to  list  the  sad-tun  d tale. 

But  not  one  word  of  comment  does  he  offer  upon  the  reve- 
lations of  the  “ fickle  maid  full  pale.”  The  dramatic  power, 
however,  as  we  have  said,  is  many  steps  beyond  this.  It 
dispenses  with  narrative  altogether.  It  renders  a compli- 
cated story,  or  stories,  one  in  the  action.  It  makes  the  chai- 
acters  reveal  themselves,  sometimes  by  a word.  It  tiusts  for 
everything  to  the  capacity  of  an  audience  to  appreciate  the 
greatest  subtleties,  and  the  nicest  shades  of  passion,  through 
the  action.  It  is  the  very  reverse  of  the  oratorical  power, 
which  repeats  and  explains.  And  how  is  it  able  to  effect 
this  prodigious  mastery  over  the  senses  and  the  understand- 
ing? By  raising  the  mind  of  the  spectator,  or  reader,  into 
such  a state  of  poetical  excitement  as  corresponds  in  some 
degree  to  the  excitement  of  the  poet,  and  thus  clears  away 
the  mists  of  our  ordinary  vision,  and  irradiates  the  whole 
complex  moral  world  in  which  we  for  a time  live,  and  move, 
and  have  our  being,  with  the  brightness  of  his  own  intel- 
lectual sunlight.  Now,  it  appears  to  us  that,  although  the 
Venus  and  Adonis,  and  the  Lucrece,  do  not  pretend  to  be  the 
creations  of  this  wonderful  power— their  forms  did  not  de- 
mand its  complete  exercise— they  could  not  have  been  pro- 
duced by  a man  who  did  not  possess  the  power,  and  had 
assiduously  cultivated  it  in  its  own  proper  field.  In  the 
second  poem,  more  especially,  do  we  think  the  power  has 
reached  a higher  development,  indicating  itself  in  a yet 
wider  range  of  knowledge  and  reflection.” 

Malone  says : u I have  observed  that  Painter  has  inserted 
the  story  of  Lucrece  in  the  first  volume  of  his  Palace  of  Pleas- 
ure, 1567,  on  which  I make  no  doubt  our  author  formed  his 
poem.”  Be  it  so.  The  story  of  Lucrece  in  Painter’s  novel 
occupies  four  pages.  The  first  page  describes  the  circum- 


28 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


stances  that  preceded  the  unholy  visit  of  Tarquin  to  Lucrece  ; 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  last  two  pages  detail  the  events  that 
followed  the  death  of  Lucrece.  A page  and  a half  at  most 
is  given  to  the  tragedy.  This  is  proper  enough  in  a narra- 
tive, whose  business  it  is  to  make  all  the  circumstances  intel- 
ligible. But  the  narrative  poet,  who  was  also  thoroughly 
master  of  the  dramatic  power,  concentrates  all  the  interest 
upon  the  main  circumstances  of  the  story.  He  places  the 
scene  of  those  circumstances  before  our  eyes  at  the  very 
opening : 

“ From  the  besieged  Ardea  all  in  post, 

Borne  by  the  trustless  wings  of  false  desire, 

Lust-breathed  Tarquin  leaves  the  Roman  host, 

And  to  Collatium  bears,”  etc. 

The  preceding  circumstances  which  impel  this  journey  are 
then  rapidly  told.  Again,  after  the  crowning  action  of  the 
tragedy,  the  poet  has  done.  He  tells  the  consequences  of 
it  with  a brevity  and  simplicity  indicating  the  most  consum- 
mate art : 

“ When  they  had  sworn  to  this  advised  doom, 

They  did  conclude  to  bear  dead  Lucrece  thence; 

To  show  her  bleeding  body  thorough  Rome, 

And  so  to  publish  Tarquin’s  foul  offence: 

Which  being  done  with  speedy  diligence, 

The  Romans  plausibly  did  give  consent 
To  Tarquin’s  everlasting  banishment.” 

He  has  thus  cleared  away  all  the  encumbrances  to  the  prog- 
ress of  the  main  action.  He  would  have  done  the  same  had 
he  made  Lucrece  the  subject  of  a drama.  But  he  has  to  tell 
his  painful  story  and  to  tell  it  all : not  to  exhibit  a portion 
of  it,  as  he  would  have  done  had  he  chosen  the  subject  for  a 
tragedy.  The  consummate  delicacy  with  which  he  has  accom- 
plished this  is  beyond  all  praise,  perhaps  above  all  imitation. 
He  puts  forth  his  strength  on  the  accessories  of  the  main 
incident.  He  delights  to  make  the  chief  actors  analyze 
their  own  thoughts, — reflect,  explain,  expostulate.  All  this 


INTRODUCTION. 


29 


is  essentially  undramatic,  and  he  meant  it  to  be  so.  But 
then,  what  pictures  does  he  paint  of  the  progress  of  the  ac- 
tion,*which  none  but  a great  dramatic  poet,  who  had  visions 
of  future  Macbeths  and  Othellos  before  him,  could  have  paint- 
ed ! Look,  for  example,  at  that  magnificent  scene,  when 
“ No  comfortable  star  did  lend  his  light,” 
of  Tarquin  leaping  from  his  bed,  and,  softly  smiting  his  fal- 
chion on  a flint,  lighting  a torch 

“Which  must  be  lode-star  to  his  lustful  eye.” 

Look,  again,  at  the  exquisite  domestic  incident  which  tells 
of  the  quiet  and  gentle  occupation  of  his  devoted  victim  : 

“ By  the  light  he  spies 
Lucretia’s  glove,  wherein  her  needle  sticks ; 

He  takes  it  from  the  rushes  where  it  lies.” 

The  hand  to  which  that  glove  belongs  is  described  in  the 
very  perfection  of  poetry  : 

“Without  the  bed  her  other  fair  hand  was, 

On  the  green  coverlet ; whose  perfect  white 
Show’d  like  an  April  daisy  on  the  grass.” 

In  the  chamber  of  innocence  Tarquin  is  painted  with  terrific 
grandeur,  which  is  overpowering  by  the  force  of  contrast: 

This  said  he  shakes  aloft  his  Roman  blade, 

Which,  like  a falcon  towering  in  the  skies, 

Coucheth  the  fowl  below  with  his  wings’  shade.” 

The  complaint  of  Lucrece  after  Tarquin  has  departed  was 
meant  to  be  undramatic.  The  action  advances  not.  The 
character  develops  not  itself  in  the  action.  But  the  poet 
makes  his  heroine  bewail  her  fate  in  every  variety  of  lament 
that  his  boundless  command  of  imagery  could  furnish.  The 
letter  to  Collatine  is  written  a letter  of  the  most  touching 
simplicity  : ‘^Thou  worthy  lord 

Of  that  unworthy  wife  that  greeteth  thee, 

Health  to  thy  person  ! Next  vouchsafe  to  afford 
(If  ever,  love,  thy  Lucrece  thou  wilt  see) 

Some  present  speed  to  come  and  visit  me : 


30 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


So  I commend  me  from  our  house  in  grief ; 

My  woes  are  tedious,  though  my  words  are  brief.” 

Again  the  action  languishes,  and  again  Lucrece  surrenders 
herself  to  her  grief.  The 

“ Skilful  painting,  made  for  Priam’s  Troy  ” 

is  one  of  the  most  elaborate  passages  of  the  poem,  essentially 
cast  in  an  undramatic  mould.  But  this  is  but  a prelude  to 
the  catastrophe,  where,  if  we  mistake  not,  a strength  of  pas- 
sion is  put  forth  which  is  worthy  him  who  drew  the  terrible 
agonies  of  Lear  : 

“ Here  with  a sigh,  as  if  her  heart  would  break, 

She  throws  foith  larquin’s  name  : ‘He,  he,’  she  savs, 

But  more  than  ‘ he  ’ her  poor  tongue  could  not  speak ; 

Till  after  many  accents  and  delays, 

Untimely  breathings,  sick  and  short  assays, 

She  utters  this  : ‘ He,  he,  fair  lords,  ’t  is  he, 

That  guides  this  hand  to  give  this  wound  to  me.’  ” 

Malone,  in  his  concluding  remarks  upon  the  Venus  and  Ado- 
nis, and  Lucrece,  says:  “We  should  do  Shakspeare  injustice 
were  we  to  try  them  by  a comparison  with  more  modern  and 
polished  productions,  or  with  our  present  idea  of  poetical 
excellence.”  This  was  written  in  the  year  1780 — the  period 
which  rejoiced  in  the  “polished  productions ” of  Hayley  and 
Miss  Seward,  and  founded  its  “idea  of  poetical  excellence” 
on  some  standard  which,  secure  in  its  conventional  forms, 
might  depart  as  far  as  possible  from  simplicity  and  nature’ 
to  give  us  words  without  thought,  arranged  in  verses  without 
music.  It  would  be  injustice  indeed  to  Shakspere  to  try  the 
Venus  and  Adonis,  and  Lucrece,  by  such  a standard  of  “poet- 
ical excellence.”  But  we  have  outlived  that  period.  By  way 
of  apology  for  Shakspere,  Malone  adds,  “ that  few  authors 
rise  much  above  the  age  in  which  they  live.”  He  further 
says,  “ the  poems  of  Venus  and  Adonis,  and  the  Rape  of  Lu- 
crece, whatever  opinion  may  be  now  entertained  of  them,  were 
certainly  much  admired  in  Shakspeare’s  lifetime.”  This  is 


INTRODUCTION. 


31 


consolatory.  In  Shakspere’s  lifetime  there  were  a few  men 
that  the  world  has  since  thought  somewhat  qualified  to  estab- 
lish an  “idea  of  poetical  excellence"’ — Spenser,  Drayton, 
Jonson,  Fletcher,  Chapman,  for  example.  These  were  not 
much  valued  in  Malone’s  golden  age  of  “ more  modern  and 
polished  productions  ;” — but  let  that  pass.  We  are  coming 
back  to  the  opinions  of  this  obsolete  school ; and  we  venture 
to  think  the  majority  of  readers  now  will  not  require  us  to 
make  an  apology  for  Shakspere’s  poems. 

[. From  Dowdeils  “ ShakspereT  *] 

The  Venus  and  Adonis  is  styled  by  its  author,  in  the  ded- 
ication to  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  “ the  first  heir  of  my 
invention.”  Gervinus  believes  that  the  poem  may  have 
been  written  before  the  poet  left  Stratford.  Although  pos- 
sibly separated  by  a considerable  interval  from  its  companion 
poem,  The  Rape  of  Lucrece  (1594),  the  two  may  be  regarded 
as  essentially  one  in  kind.  The  specialty  of  these  poems  as 
portions  of  Shakspere’s  art  has  perhaps  not  been  sufficiently 
observed,  t Each  is  an  artistic  study  ; and  they  form,  as  has 
been  just  observed,  companion  studies — one  of  female  lust 
and  boyish  coldness,  the  other  of  male  lust  and  womanly 
chastity.  Coleridge-noticed  “ the  utter  aloofness  of  the  poet’s 
own  feelings  from  those  of  which  he  is  at  once  the  painter 
amTThe  analyst  ;”  but  it  can  hardly  be  admitted  that  this 
aloofness  of  the  poet’s  own  feelings  proceeds  from  a dramatic 
abandonment  of  self.  The  subjects  of  these  two  poems  did 
not  call  and  choose  their  poet;  they  did  not  possess  him 
and  compel  him  to  render  them  into  art.  Rather  the  poet 
expressly  made  choice  of  the  subjects,  and  deliberately  set 
himself  down  before  each  to  accomplish  an  exhaustive  study 
of  it. 

* Shakspere : a Critical  Study  of  his  Mind  and  Art , by  Edward  Dow- 
den  ; Harper’s  ed.  p.  43  fol. 

t Coleridge  touches  upon  the  fact,  and  it  is  noted  by  Lloyd. 


3 2 


SHAKESPEARES  POEMS . 

If  the  Venus  and  Adonis  sonnets  in  The  Passionate  Pil- 
grim be  by  Shakspere,  it  would  seem  that  he  had  been  try- 
ing various  poetical  exercises  on  this  theme.  And  for  a 
young  writer  of  the  Renascence,  the  subject  of  Shakspere’s 
earliest  poem  was  a splendid  one-as  voluptuous  and  un- 
spintual  as  that  of  a classical  picture  of  Titian.  It  included 
two  figures  containing  inexhaustible  pasture  for  the  fleshly 
eye,  and  delicacies  and  dainties  for  the  sensuous  imagina- 
tion of  the  Renascence— the  enamoured  Queen  of  Beauty 
and  the  beautiful,  disdainful  boy.  It  afforded  occasion  for 
endless  exercises  and  variations  on  the  themes  Beauty,  Lust, 
and  Death.  In  holding  the  subject  before  his  imagination! 
Shakspere  is  perfectly  cool  and  collected.  He  has  made 
choice  of  the  subject,  and  he  is  interested  in  doing  his  duty 
by  it  in  the  most  thorough  way  a young  poet  can  ; but  he 
lemains  unimpassioned— intent  wholly  upon  getting  down 
the  right  colours  and  lines  upon  his  canvas.  Observe  his 
determination  to  put  in  accurately  the  details  of  each  object ; 
to  omit  nothing.  Poor  Wat,  the  hare,  is  described  in  a dozen 
stanzas.  Another  series  of  stanzas  describes  the  stallion- 
all  his  points  are  enumerated  : 

“ Round-hoof’ d,  short-jointed,  fetlocks  shag  and  long, 

Broad  breast,  full  eye,  small  head  and  nostril  wid&e, 

High  ciest,  short  ears,  straight  legs  and  passing  strong, 

Thin  mane,  thick  tail,  broad  buttock,  tender  hide.” 

This  passage  of  poetry  has  been  admired  • but  is  it  poetry 
or  a paragraph  from  an  advertisement  of  a horse-sale?  It 
is  part  of  Shakspere’s  study  of  an  animal,  and  he  does  his 
work  thoroughly.  In  like  manner,  he  does  not  shrink  from 
faithfully  putting  down  each  one  of  the  amorous  provoca- 
tions and  urgencies  of  Venus.  The  complete  series  of  ma- 
noeuvres must  be  detailed. 

In  Lucrece  the  action  is  delayed  and  delayed,  that  every 
minute  particular  may  be  described,  every  minor  incident 
recorded.  In  the  newness  of  her  suffering,  and  shame,  Lu- 


INTRODUCTION. 


33 


crece  finds  time  for  an  elaborate  tirade  appropriate  to  the 
theme  “Night,”  another  to  that  of  “Time,”  another  to  that 
of  “ Opportunity.”  Each  topic  is  exhausted.  Then,  studi- 
ously, a new  incident  is  introduced,  and  its  significance  for 
the  emotions  is  drained  to  the  last  drop  in  a new  tirade. 
We  nowhere  else  discover  Shakspere  so  evidently  engaged 
upon  his  work.  Afterwards  he  puts  a stress  upon  his  verses 
to  compel  them  to  contain  the  hidden  wealth  of  his  thought 
. and  imagination.  Here  he  displays  at  large  such  wealth  as 
Ihe  possesses;  he  will  have  none  of  it  half  seen.  The  de- 
scriptions and  declamations  are  undramatic,  but  they  show 
us  the  materials  laid  out  in  detail  from  which  dramatic 
poetry  originates.  Having  drawn  so  carefully  from  models, 
the  time  comes  when  he  can  trust  himself  to  draw  from 
memory,  and  he  possesses  marvellous  freedom  of  hand,  be- 
cause his  previous  studies  have  been  so  laborious.  It  was 
the  same  hand  that  drew  the  stallion  in  Venus  and  Adonis 
which  afterwards  drew  with  infallible  touch,  as  though  they 
were  alive,  the  dogs  of  Theseus  : 

“ My  hounds  are  bred  out  of  the  Spartan  kind, 

So  flew’d,  so  sanded,  and  their  heads  are  hung 
With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew  ; 

Crook-kneed,  and  dew-lapp’d  like  Thessalian  bulls  ; 

Slow  in  pursuit ; but  match’d  in  mouth  like  bells, 

Each  under  each.  A cry  more  tunable 
Was  never  holla’d  to,  nor  cheer’d  with  horn, 

In  Crete,  in  Sparta,  nor  in  Thessaly.”* 

* The  comparison  of  these  two  passages  is  from  Hazlitt,  whose  unfa- 
vourable criticism  of  Shakspere’s  poems  expresses  well  one  side  of  the 
truth.  “ The  two  poems  of  Venus  and  Adonis  and  of  Tarquin  and  Lu- 
crece  appear  to  us  like  a couple  of  ice-houses.  They  are  about  as  hard, 
as  glittering,  and  as  cold.  The  author  seems  all  the  time  to  be  thinking 
of  his  verses,  and  not  of  his  subject — not  of  what  his  characters  would 
feel,  but  of  what  he  shall  say ; and,  as  it  must  happen  in  all  such  cases, 
he  always  puts  into  their  mouths  those  things  which  they  would  be  the 
last  to  think  of,  and  which  it  shows  the  greatest  ingenuity  in  him  to  find 
out.  The  whole  is  laboured,  uphill  work.  The  poet  is  perpetually  sin- 

c 


iit  . 


34 


SHA KESPEA  RE'S  POEMS. 


When  these  poems  were  written,  Shakspere  was  cautiously 
feeling  his  way.  Large,  slow-growing  natures,  gifted  with  a 
sense  of  concrete  fact  and  with  humour,  ordinarily  possess  no 
great  self-confidence  in  youth.  An  idealist,  like  Milton,  may 
resolve  in  early  manhood  that  he  will  achieve  a great  epic 
poem,  and  in  old  age  may  turn  into  fact  the  ideas  of  his 
youth.  An  idealist,  like  Marlowe*  may  begin  his  career  with 
a splendid  youthful  audacity,  a stupendous  Tamburlaine. 
A man  of  the  kind  to  which  Shakspere  belonged,  although 
very  resolute,  and  determined,  if  possible,  to  succeed,  re- 
quires the  evidence  of  objective  facts  to  give  him  self-confi- 
dence. His  special  virtue  lies  in  a peculiarly  pregnant  and 
rich  relation  with  the  actual  world,  and  such  relation  com- 
monly establishes  itself  by  a gradual  process.  Accordingly, 
instead  of  flinging  abroad  into  the  world  while  still  a strip- 
ling some  unprecedented  creation,  as  Marlowe  did,  or  as 
ATic for  Hugo  did,  and  securing  thereby  the  position  of  a 
leader  of  an  insurgent  school,  Shakspere  began,  if  not  tim- 
idly, at  least  cautiously  and  tentatively.  He  undertakes 
work  of  any  and  every  description,  and  tries  and  tests  him- 
self upon  all.  He  is  therefore  a valued  person  in  his  theat- 
rical company,  ready  to  turn  his  hand  to  anything  helpful  — 

gling  out  the  difficulties  of  the  art  to  make  an  exhibition  of  his  strength 
and  skill  in  wrestling  with  them.  He  is  making  perpetual  trials  of  them 
as  if  his  mastery  over  them  were  doubted.  ...  A beautiful  thought  is  sure 
to  be  lost  in  an  endless  commentary  upon  it.  . . . There  is,  besides,  a 
strange  attempt  to  substitute  the  language  of  painting  for  that  of  poetry, 
to  make  us  see  their  feelings  in  the  faces  of  the  persons.” — Characters  of 
Shakspere1  s Plays  (ed.  1818),  pp.  348,  349.  Coleridge’s  much  more  favor- 
able criticism  will  be  found  in  Biographia  Literaria  (ed.  1847),  v°k  h.  ch. 
ii.  The  peculiarity  of  the  poems  last  noticed  in  the  extract  from  Hazlitt 
is  ingeniously  accounted  for  by  Coleridge.  “ The  great  instinct  which 
impelled  the  poet  to  the  drama  was  secretly  working  in  him,  prompting 
him  ...  to  provide  a substitute  for  that  visual  language,  that  constant 
intervention  and  running  comment  by  tone,  look,  and  gesture,  which  in 
his  dramatic  works  he  was  entitled  to  expect  from  the  players”  (pp. 
18,  19). 


INTRODUCTION. 


35 


a Jack-of-all-trades,  a “ Johannes-factotum  he  is  obliging 
and  free  from  self-assertion  ; he  is  waiting  his  time  ; he  is 
not  yet  sure  of  himself ; he  finds  it  the  sensible  thing  not  to 
profess  singularity.  “ Divers  of  worship  ” report  his  “ up- 
rightness of  dealing  ;”  he  is  “ excellent  in  the  quality  he  pro- 
fesses his  demeanor  is  civil ; he  is  recognized  even  already 
as  having  a “facetious  grace  in  writing.”  | Let  us  not  sup- 
pose, because  Shakspere  declines  to  assault  . the  real  world 
and  the  world  of  imagination,  and  take  them  by  violence, 
that  he  is  therefore  a person  of  slight  force  of  character. 
He  is  determined  to  master  both  these  worlds,  if  possible. 
He  approaches  them  with  a facile  and  engaging  air  ; by-and- 
by  his  grasp  upon  facts  will  tighten.  From  Marlowe  and 
from  Milton  half  of  the  world  escapes.  Shakspere  will  lay 
hold  of  it  in  its  totality,  and,  once  that  he  has  laid  hold  of  it, 
will  never  let  it  go. 

[From  Mr.  F.  J.  FttrnivalVs  Comments  on  the  Poems.  f] 

In  the  Venus  and  Adonis  we  have  the  same  luxuriance  of 
fancy,  the  same  intensity  of  passion,  as  in  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
illegitimate  and  unlawful  though  the  indulgence  in  that 
passion  is.  We  have  the  link  with  the  Midsummer-  Night's 
Dream  in  the  stanza  “ Bid  me  discourse,”  and  the  hounds 
hunting  the  hare.  The  poem  was  entered  on  the  Station- 
ers’ Register  and  published  in  1593,  and  must  be  of  nearly 
the  same  date  as  the  Romeo  and  Juliet.  It  is  dedicated  to 
Shakspere’s  young  patron,  Henry,  Earl  of  Southampton  ; 

* On  the  special  use  of  the  word  “quality”  for  the  stage-player’s  pro- 
fession, see  a note  by  Hermann  Kurz  in  his  article,  “ Shakespeare  del* 
Schauspieler,”  Shakespeare- Jahrbuch,  vol.  vi.  pp.  317,  318. 

t Chettle’s  “Kind  Heart’s  Dream,”  1592.  But  see  Mr.  Howard  Staun- 
ton’s letter  in  The  Athenceum,  Feb.  7,  1874;  Mr.  Simpson’s  article, 
“Shakspere  Allusion  Books,”  The  Academy , April  n,  1874;  and  Dr. 
Ingleby’s  preface  to  Shakspere  Allusion  Books , published  for  the  New 
Shakspere  Society. 

t The  Leopold  Shakspere  (London,  1877),  p.  xxx.  fol. 


36 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


and  I would  fain  believe  the  subject  was  set  him  by  that 
patron.  But  from  whatever  source  came  the  impulse  to  take 
from  Ovid  the  heated  story  of  the  heathen  goddess’s  lust,  we 
cannot  forbear  noticing  how  through  this  stifling  atmosphere 

Shakspere  has  blown  the  fresh  breezes  of  English  meads  and 
downs.  Midsummer- Night's  Dream  itself  is  not  fuller  of 
evidence  of  Shakspere’s  intimate  knowledge  of,  and  intense 
delight  in,  country  scenes  and  sights,  whether  shown  in  his 
description  of  horse  and  hounds,  or  in  closer  touches,  like 
that  of  the  hush  of  wind  before  the  rain  ; while  such  lines 
as  those  about  the  eagle  flapping,  “shaking  its  wings”  (57), 
over  its  food,  send  us  still  to  the  Zoological  Gardens  to  ver- 
ify. Two  lines  there  are,  reflecting  Shakspere’s  own  expe- 
rience of  life — his  own  early  life  in  London  possibly — which 
we  must  not  fail  to  note  ; they  are  echoed  in  Hamlet: 

“For  misery  is  trodden  on  by  many, 

And  being  low,  never  reliev’d  by  any.” 

’T  was  a lesson  plainly  taught  by  the  Elizabethan  days, 
and  the  Victorian  preach  it  too.  It  has  been  the  fashion 
lately  to  run  down  the  Venus  as  compared  with  Marlowe’s 
Hero  and  Leander . Its  faults  are  manifest.  Jt^shows  less 
restraint  and  training  than  the  work  of  the  earlier-ripened 
Marlowe ; but  to  me  it  has  a fulness  of  power  and  promise 
of  genius  enough  to  make  three  Marlowes.  . . . 

Though  the  Vejius  was  dedicated  by  Shakspere,  when  twen- 
ty-nine, to  the  Earl  of  Southampton  before  he  was  twenty,* * 
and  cannot  be  called  an  improving  poem  for  a young  noble- 
man to  read,  we  must  remember  the  difference  between  the 

* He  was  born  October  6,  1573  ; his  father  died  October  4,  1581  ; he 
entered  at  St.  John’s  College,  Cambridge,  on  December  11,  1585,  just 
after  he  was  twelve  ; took  his  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  before  he  was 
sixteen,  on  June  6,  1589  ; and  soon  after  entered  at  Gray’s  Inn,  London. 
He  was  a ward  of  Lord  Burghley.  He  became  a favourite  of  Queen 
Elizabeth’s,  but  lost  her  favour,  in  1595,  for  making  love  to  Elizabeth 
Vernon  (Essex’s  cousin),  whom  he  married  later,  in  1598.  (Massey’s 
Shakspere' s Sounds , p.  53,  etc.) 


IN  TROD  UCTION. 


37 


Elizabethan  times  and  our  own.  Then,  not  one  in  a thou- 
sand of  the  companions  of  poets  would  have  complained  of 
Shakspere’s  choice  of  subject,  or  thought  it  other  than  as 
legitimate  as  its  treatment  was  beautiful.  The  same  subject 
was  repeated  perhaps  by  Shakspere  in  son  e sonnets  of  The 
Passionate  Pilgrim;  and  a like  one,  in  higher  and  happier 
tone,  was  made  the  motive  of  his  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well 
— as  I believe,  the  recast  of  his  early  Love's  Labours  Won. 
However  it  grates  on  one  to  compare  the  true  and  loving 
Helena  with  the  lustful  Venus,  one  must  admit  that  the  pur- 
suit of  an  unwilling  man  by  a willing  woman — though  he  was 
no  Joseph,  and  she  no  Potiphar’s  wife — was  not  so  distaste- 
ful to  the  Elizabethan  age  as  it  is  to  the  Victorian.  Consta- 
ble’s best  poem  (printed  in  1600)  treats  the  same  topic  as 
Shakspere’s  first : its  title  is  The  Shepherd's  Song  of  Venus 
and  Adonis  * 

Of  possession  and  promise  in  Shakspere’s  first  poem,  we 
have  an  intense  love  of  nature,  and  a conviction  (which  nev- 
er left  him)  of  her  sympathy  with  the  moods  of  men  ; a pene- 
trating eye  ; a passionate  soul  ;f  a striking  power  of  throw- 
ing himself  into  all  he  sees,  and  reproducing  it  living  and 
real  to  his  reader;  a lively  fancy,  command  of  words,  and 
music  of  verse  ; these  wielded  by  a shaping  spirit  that  strives 
to  keep  each  faculty  under  one  control,  and  guide  it  while 
doing  its  share  of  the  desired  whole.  . . . 

The  first  t allusion  to  the  Venus  is  by  Meres  in  1598  : . . . 

* Lodge  has  three  stanzas  in  his  Glaucus  and  Scilla , 1589,  on  Adonis’s 
death,  and  Venus  coming  down  to  his  corpse. 

t “A  young  poet  can,  at  most,  give  evidence  of  ardent  feeling  and 
fresh  imagination.” — Mark  Pattison,  Macmillan's  Magazine,  March,  1875, 
p.  386. 

$ If  there  really  was  an  earlier  edition  in  1595,  or  any  year  before  1598, 
of  John  Weever’s  Epigramnies , which  we  know  only  in  the  edition  of 
1599,  then  Weever  was  before  Meres  in  recognizing  the  merit  of  Shak- 
spere’s Venus,  Lncrece,  Romeo,  and  Richard.  See  the  Epigram  22,  in 
the  New  Shakspere  Society’s  Allusion  Books , Pt.  I.  p.  182. 


38 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


witness  his  Venus  and  Adonis , his  fucrecef  etc.  In  1593 
the  two  poems  were  again  noticed  in  “ A Remembrance  of 
some  English  Poets,  the  fourth  tract  in  a volume  called 
Foems  •’  in  Diners  Humors,  of  which  the  first  tract  bears 
Richard  BarnfielcTs  name : 

“And  Shakespeare  thou,  whose  hony-flowing  Vaine, 

(Pleasing  the  World)  thy  Praises  doth  obtaine  ; 

Whose  Venus , and  whose  Lucrece  (sweete  and  chaste), 

Thy  Name  in  fame’s  immortall  Booke  have  plac’t. 

Liue  ever  you  ! at  least,  in  Fame  liue  ever  ! 

Well  may  the  Bodye  dye ; but  Fame  dies  neuer.” 

In  the  same  year,  1598,  the  satirist,  John  Marston,*  pub- 
lished “ the  first  heir  of  his  invention,”  which  he  called  vp.  202) 
“the  first  bloomes  of  my  poesie,”  “The  Metamorphosis  of 
Pigmalion’s  Image.  And  Certaine  Satyres  ” {Works,  1856, 
iii.  199),  and  in  it,  says  Mr.  Minto  {Characteristics  of  Eng- 
lish Poets,  1874,  p.  437),  reviving  an  old  theory,  “Shakspere’s 
Venus  and  Adonis  was  singled  out  as  the  type  of  dangerously 
voluptuous  poetry,  and  unmercifully  parodied  ; the  acts  of 
the  goddess  to  win  over  the  cold  youth  being  coarselv  par- 
alleled in  mad  mockery  by  the  acts  of  Pygmalion  to  bring 
his  beloved  statue  to  life.”  Now  the  fact  is,  that  there  is  no 
trace  of  “mad  mockery  ” or  parody  in  Marston’s  poem, 
though  there  are  echoes  in  it  of  Venus,  as  there  are  Rich- 
ard Ill.f  Hamlet,  etc.,  in  Marston’s  Scourge  of  Villanie,  his 

* See  the  character  given  of  him  in  the  most  interesting  Return  from 
Parnassus  (about  1602,  published  1606),  Hazlitt’s  Dodsley,  ix.  116,  A 17. 
Also  the  anecdote  in  Manningham’s  Diary. 

t “ A horse  ! a horse  ! My  kingdom  for  a horse  !”  (1607.  What  You 
Will,  act  ii.  sc.  i.  Works,  i.  239).  “ A man  ! a man  ! a kingdom  for  a 

man  !”  ( 1598.  Scourge  of  Villanie.  Works,  iii.  278).  And  he  repeats 
the  call,  “A  man,  a man  !”  thrice  in  the  next  two  pages  {Shakspere  Allu- 
sion Books,  i.  188.  New  Shakspere  Society).  See,  too,  “ A foole,  a foole, 
a foole,  my  coxcombe  for  a foole  !”  {Pawn,  1606,  act  v.  sc.  i.  Woi-ks,  ii. 
89) ; and  on  p.  23,  Hercules’s  imitation  of  Iago’s  speech  to  Roderigo,  in 
Othello , ii.  40-60  (Nicholson).  Again,  in  The  Malcontent,  1607,  act  iii. 
sc.  iii.  ( Works , i.  239),  “ Ho,  ho  ! ho,  ho  ! arte  there,  olde  true  pennye;” 


INTRODUCTION. 


39 


Fawn,  etc.  : and  the  far  more  probable  view  of  the  case  is 
that  put  forward  by  Dr.  Brinsley  Nicholson  : that  Marston, 
being  young,  and  of  a warm  temperament  and  licentious  dis- 
position, followed  the  lead  of  a poem  then  in  everybody’s 
mouth*  (Shakspere’s  Venus),  and  produced  his  Pigma  Zion’s 
Image;  but  being  able  only  to  heighten  the  Venus’s  sensual- 
ity, and  leave  out  its  poetry  and  bright  outdoor  life,  he  dis- 
gusted his  readers,  had  his  poem  suppressed  by  Whitgift  and 
Bancroft’s  order,  and  then  tried  to  get  out  of  the  scrape  by 
saying  that  he  had  written  his  nastiness  only  to  condemn 
other  poets  for  writing  theirs  ! A likely  story  indeed  ! But 
let  him  tell  it  himself.  In  his  “ Satyre  VI.”  of  his  Scourge  of 
Villanie , 1598  (completed  in  1599),  Works , 1856,  iii.  274,  275, 
he  says: 

“ Curio  ! know’st  my  sprite  ; 

Yet  deem’st  that  in  sad  seriousness  I write 
Such  nasty  stuffe  as  is  Pigmalion  ? 

Such  maggot-tainted,  lewd  corruption  ! . . . 

Think’st  thou  that  I,  which  was  create  to  whip 
Incarnate  fiends  . . . 

Think’st  thou  that  I in  melting  poesie 
Will  pamper  -itching  sensualitie, 

That  in  the  bodies  scumme,  all  fatally 
Intombes  the  soules  most  sacred  faculty? 

from  Hamlet , etc.  Compare,  too,  Lampatho  in  The  Malcontent  (vol.  i.  p. 
236)  with  Armado  in  Love’s  Labours  Lost.  Marston  was  steeped  in  Shak- 
spere,  though  to  little  good. 

* See  The  Fair  Maid  of  the  Exchange : 

“ Crip[ple\.  But  heave  you  sir?  reading  so  much  as  you  haue  done, 

Doe  you  not  remember  one  pretty  phrase, 

To  scale  the  walles  of  a faire  wenches  loue? 

Bow\dler\  I never  read  any  thing  but  Venus  and  Adonis. 

Crip.  Why  that’s  the  very  quintessence  of  loue ; 

If  you  remember  but  a verse  or  two, 

He  pawne  my  head,  goods,  lands,  and  all,  ’t  will  doe.” 

In  R.  Baron’s  “Fortune’s  Tennis-ball”  (Pocula  Castalia , 1640)  are,  says 
Dr.  B.  Nicholson,  many  appropriations  from  Venus  and  Adonis,  suddenly 
occurring  where  hunting  is  spoken  of.  Falstaff.  is  also  referred  to  ; and 
at  the  end  are  many  appropriations  from  Ben  Jonson’s  Hymenczu 


40 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS , 


Hence,  thou  misjudging  censor  ! know,  I wrot 
Those  idle  rimes  to  note  the  odious  spot 
And  blemish  that  deformes  the  lineaments 
Ofmoderne  poesies  habiliments. 

Oh  that  the  beauties  of  invention* 

For  want  of  judgements  disposition, 

Should  all  be  spoil’d  ! ” . . . 

Then,  after  describing  seven  types  of  poets— of  whom  the 
fifth  maybe  Shakspere,f  and  the  sixth  Ben  Jonson  (comp.  p. 
245) — Marston  goes  on  to  satirize  the  readers  of  his  and 
other  writers’  loose  poems,  for  whom  he  “slubber’d  up  that 
chaos  indigest  ” of  his  Pigmalion.  This  epithet  is  certainly 
not  consistent  with  the  dedication  of  his  poem  to  Good  Opin- 
ion and  his  Mistress  ; and  his  excuse  for  his  failure  in  it  is 
plainly  an  after-thought.  But  whatever  we  determine  as  to 
Marston’s  motives  and  honesty,  we  shall  all  join  in  regret- 
ting the  “ want  of  judgements  disposition  ” that  let  Shakspere 
choose  Venus  $ for  an  early  place  in  his  glorious  gallery  of 
women — forms  whose  radiant  purity  and  innocence  have 
won  all  hearts;  though  we  will  remember  this  fault  only  as 
the  low  level  from  which  he  rose  on  stepping-stones  of  his 
dead  self  to  higher  things.  He  who  put  Venus  near  the  be- 
ginning of  his  career,  ended  with  Miranda,  Perdita,  Imogen, 
and  Queen  Katherine.  Let  them  make  atonement  for  her! 

* Comp.  Shakspere’s  “ First  heir  of  my  invention.” 
t Yon  ’s  one  whose  straines  haue  flowne  so  high  a pitch, 

That  straight  he  flags,  and  tumbles  in  a ditch. 

His  sprightly  hot  high-soring  poesie 
Is  like  that  dream’d-of  imagery, 

Whose  head  was  gold,  brest  silver,  brassie  thigh, 

Lead  leggs,  clay  feete : O faire  fram’d  poesie!’’ 

That  Shakspere’s  subject  was  clay,  and  his  verse  gold,  is  certainly  true. 

t The  author  of  the  Return  from  Parnassus  (written  about  1602,  pub- 
lished 1606),  puts  it  thus  (Hazlitt’s  Dodsley , ix.  118)  : 

“ William  Shakespeare  ? 

Who  loves  Adonis’  love  or  Lucrece  rape; 

His  sweeter  verse  contains  heart-robbing  life, 

Could  but  a graver  subject  him  content. 

Without  love’s  foolish,  lazy  languishment.” 


THE  EARL  OF  SOUTHAMPTON. 


TO  THE 

RIGHT  HONOURABLE  HENRY  WRIOTHESLY, 

EARL  OF  SOUTHAMPTON  AND  BARON  OF  TICHFIELD. 

Right  Honourable, 

I know  not  how  I shall  offend  in  dedicating  my  unpolished  lines  to 
your  Lordship,  nor  how  the  world  will  censure  me  for  choosing  so 
strong  a prop  to  support  so  weak  a burthen  : only  if  your  honour  seem 
but  pleased,  I account  myself  highly  praised,  and  vow  to  take  advan- 
tage of  all  idle  hours  till  I have  honoured  you  with  some  graver  labour. 
But  if  the  first  heir  of  my  invention  prove  deformed,  I shall  be  sorry  it 
had  so  noble  a godfather,  and  never  after  ear  so  barren  a land,  for  fear 
it  yield  me  still  so  bad  a harvest.  I leave  it  to  your  honourable  survey, 
and  your  honour  to  your  heart’s  content,  which  I wish  may  always 
answer  your  own  wish,  and  the  world’s  hopeful  expectation. 

Your  Honour’s  in  all  duty, 

William  Shakespeare. 


. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


Even  as  the  sun  witW  {/urpTe-iolour’d  face 
Had  ta’en  his  last  leave  of  the  weeping  morn, 

^ rR,pse-cheek’d  Adonis  hied  him  to  the  chase ; 
Hunting  he  iov’cl,  but  love  he  laugh’d  to  scorn: 
Sick-thoughted  Venus  makes  amain  unto  him, 
And  like  a bold-fac’d  suitor  gins  to  woo  him. 

‘ Thrice  fairer  than  myself/  thus  she  began, 

4 The  field’s  chjef  flower,  sweet  above  compare, 
Start'd  all  nymphs,  more  lovely  than  a man, 
More  white  and  red  than  doves  or  roses  are, 
Nature  that  made  thee,  with  herself  at  strife, 
Saith  that  the  world  hath  ending  with  thy  life. 

‘Vouchsafe,  thou  wonder,  to  alight  thy  steed, 

And  rein  his  proud  head  to  the  saddle-bow ; 

If  thou  wilt  deign  this  favour,  for  thy  meed 
A thousand  hAf^secrets  shalt  thou  know: 

Here  come  and  sit,  where  never  serpent  hisses, 
And  being  set  I ’ll  smother  thee  with  kisses  : 


urpTe-col 


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44 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


‘And  yet  not  cloy  thy  lips  with  loath'd  satiety, 
But  rather  famish  them  amid  their  plenty, 
Making  them  red  and  pale  with  fresh  variety, 
Ten  kisses  short  as  one,  one  long  as  twenty: 

A summer’s  day  will  seem  an  hour  but  short, 
Being  waited  in  such  time-beguiling  sport.' 


With  this  she  seizeth  on  his  sweating  palm. 
The  precedent  of  pith  and  livelihood, 

And,  trembling  in  her  passion,  calls  it  balm, 
Earth’s  sovereign  salve  to  do  a goddess  good  : 
Being  so  enrag’d,  desire  doth  lend  her  force 
Courageously  to  pluck  him  from  his  horse. 


Over  one  arm  the  lusty  courser’s  rein, 

Under  her  other  was  the  tender  boy, 

Who  blush’d  and  pouted  in  g dull  disdain, 

With  leaden  appetite,  unapt  to  toy; 

She  red  and  hot  as  coals  of  glowing  fire, 

He  red  for  shame,  but  frosty  in  desire. 

The  studded  bridle  on  a ragged  bough 
Nimbly  she  fastens — O how  quick  is  love! — 

The  st^ed  is  stalled  up,  and  even  now 
To  tie  the  rider  she  begins  to  prove; 

Backward  she  push’d  him,  as  she  would  be  thrust, 
And  govern’d  him  in  strength,  though  not  in  List. 

So  soon  was  she  along  as  he  was  down, 

Each  leaning  on  their  ejBows  and  their  hips; 

Now  doth  she  stroke  his  cbeelc,  now  dotlWRe  frown, 
And  gins  to  chide,  but  soon  she  stops  his  lips, 

And  kissing  speaks,  with  lustful  language  broken, 

4 If  thou  wilt  chide,  thy  lips  shall  never  open.’ 

He  burns  with  bashful  shame,  she  with  her  tears 
Doth  quench  the  maiden  burning  of  his  cheeks; 


VEX  US  AND  ADONIS. 


45 


L-.  'l  - 


Then  with  her  windy  sighs  and  golden  hairs 
To  fan  and  blow  them  dry  again  she  seeks  : 

He  saith  she  is  immodest,  blames  her  miss ; ^ 
uWhat  follows  more  she  murthers  with  a kiss. 

Even  as  an  emjDty  eagle,  sharp  by  fa|t, 

J,  , ^Ttres  'with  her  beak  on  feathers,  flesh,  and  bone 
Shaking  her  wings,  devouring  all  in  haste, 

Till  either  gorge  be  stuff’d,  or  prey  be  gone; 

Even  so  she  kiss’d  his  brow,  his  cheek,  his  chin, 
And  where  she  ends  she  doth  anew  begin. 

Forc’d  to  content,  but  never  to  obey, 

Panting  he  lies,  and  breatheth  in  her  face: 

She  feedeth  on  the  steam  as  on  a prey, 

And  calls  it  heavenly  moisture,  air  of  grace ; 

Wishing  her  cheeks  were  gardens  full  of  flowers, 
So  they  were  dew’d  with  such  distilling  showers. 

Look'  how  a bird  lies  tangled  in  a net, 

So  fasten’d  in  herarms  Ajtapis^lies  ; 

Pure  shame  and  aJvecTresistance  riiade  him  fret, 


I 


Which  bred  more  beauty  in  his  angry  eyes: 
Rain  added  to  a river  that  is  rank(-^*-£  1 
Perforce  will  force  it  overflow  the  bank. 


Tf? 


6o 


70 


Still  she  entreats,  and  prettily  entreats,  Cy  . 

For  to  a pretty  ear  she  tunes  her  tale;/t> 

Still  is  he  sullen,  still  he  lowers  and  frets,  Q 
’Twixt  crimson  shame  and  anger  ashy-pale  h 
Being  red,  she  loves  him  best;  and  being  white, 
He'  best  is  better’d  with  a more  delight,  c — 


Look  how  he  can,  she  cannot  choose  but  love; 
And  by  her  fair  immortal  hand  she  swears 
From  his  soft  bosom  never  to  remove 
Till  he  take  truce  with  her  contending  tears, 


46 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


Which  long  have  rain’d,  making  her  cheeks  all  wet; 
And  one  sweet  kiss  shall  pay  this  countless  debt. 

Upon  this  promise  did  he  raise  his  chin, 

Like  a divj^dapper  peering  through  a wave, 

Who,  being  look’d  on,  ducks  as  quickly  in; 

So  offers  he  to  give  what  she  did  crave, 

But  when  her  lips  were  ready  for  his  pay, 

He  winks,  and  turns  his  lips  another  way.  9 

Never  did  pas&nger  in  summer’s  heat 

More  thirst  for  drink  than  she  for  this  good  turn. 

Her  help  she  sees,  but  help  she  cannot  get; 

She  bathes  in  W&ter,  yet  her  fire  must  burn  : 

‘O,  pity,’  gan  she  cry,  ‘flint-hearted  boy! 

’T  is  but  a kiss  I beg ; why  art  thou  coy? 

4 1 have  been  woo’d,  as  I entreat  thee  now, 

Even  by  the  stern  and  direful  god  of  war, 

Whose  sinewy  neck  in  battle  ne’er  did  bow, 

Who  conquers  where  he  comes  in  every  jar;  IO< 

Yet  hath  he  been  my  captive  and  my  slave, 

And  begg’d  for  that  which  thou  unask’d  shalt  have. 

‘Over  my  altars  hath  he  hung  his  lance, 

His  batter’d  shield,  his  uncontrolled  crest, 

And  for  my  sake  hath  learned  to  sport  and  dance, 

To  toy,  to  wanton,  dally,  smile,  and  jest, 

Scorning  his  churlish  drum  and  ensign  red, 

Making  my  arms  his  field,  his  tent  my  bed. 

‘Thus  he  that  overrul’d  I oversway’d, 

Leading  him  prisoner  in  a red-rose  chain ; IIO 

Strong-temper’d  steel  his  stronger  strength  obey’d, 

Yet  was  he  servile  to  my  coy  disdain. 

O,  be  not  proud,  nor  brag  not  of  thy  might, 

For  mastering  her  that  foil’d  the  god  of  fight! 


r"  ^ u 

VENUS  AND  ADONTS . 


47 


‘Touch  but  niy  lips  with  those  fair  lips  of  thine, — 
Though  mine  be  not  so  fair,  yet  are  they  red — 

The  kiss  shall  be  thine  own  as  well  as  mine. 

What  seest  thou  in  the  ground?  hold  up  thy  head: 
Look  in  mine  eye-balls,  there  thy  beauty  lies; 

Then  why  not  lips  on  lips,  since  eyes  in  eyes?  120 

‘ Art  thou  asham’d  to  kiss!  then  wink  again, 

And  I will  wink;  so  shall  the  day  seem  night; 

Love  keeps  his  revels  where  there  are  but  twain; 

Be  bold  to  play,  our  sport  is  not  in  sight: 

( These  blue-vein’d  violets  whereon  we  lean 
Never  can  blab,  nor  know  not  what  we  mean. 

‘The  tender  spring  upon  thy  tempting  lip 
Shows  thee  unripe,  yet  mayst  thou  well  be  tasted; 

Make  use  of  time,  let  not  advantage  slip; 


Beauty  within  itself  should  not  be  wasted  : 
Fair  flowers  that  are  not  gather’d  in  thei 


^ 13° 


;ather’d  in  their  prime 


Rot  and  consume  themselves  in  little  time. 

‘ Were  I hard-favour’d,  foul,  or  wrinkled-old, 

Ill-nurtur’d,  crooked,  churlish,,  harsh  in  voice, 

^O’erworn,  despised,  rheumatic  and  cold, 

Tick-sighted,  barren,  lean  and  lacking  juice, 

Then  mightst  thou  pause,  for  then  I were  not  for  thee  ; 
But  having  no  defects,  why  dost  abhor  me? 

‘Thou  canst  not  see  one  wrinkle  in  my  brow; 

Mine  eyes  are  gray  and  bright  and  quick  in  turning; 
My  beauty  as  the  spring  doth  yearly  grow  ; r4i 

My  flesh  is  soft  and  plump,  my  marrow  burning; 

My  smooth  moist  hand,  were  it  with  thy  hand  felt, 
Would  in  thy  palm  dissolve,  or  seem  to  melt. 

‘Bid  me  discourse,  I will  enchant  thine  ear, 

Or,  like  a fairy,  trip  upon  the  green, 


48 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Or,  like  a nymph,  with  long  dishevelPd  hair, 

Dance  on  the  sands,  and  yet  no  footing  seen  ; 

Love  is  a spirit  all  compact  of  fire, 

Not  gross  to  sink,  but  light,  and  will  aspire.  i 

‘ Witness  this  primrose  bank  whereon  I lie; 

1 hese  foiceless  flowers  like  sturdy  trees  support  me  ; 

1 wo  strengthless  doves  will  draw  me  through  the  skv, 
From  morn  till  night,  even  where  I list  to  sport  me:" 
Is  love  so  light,  sweet  boy,  and  may  it  be 
That  thou  shouldst  think  it  heavy  unto  thee? 


‘Is  thine  own  heart  to  thine  own  face  affected? 
Can  thy  right  hand  seize  love  upon  thy  left? 
Then  woo  thyself,  be  of  thyself  rejected, 

Steal  thine  own  freedom  and  complain  on  theft. 
Narcissus  so  himself  himself  forsook, 

And  died  to  kiss  his  shadow  in  the  brook. 


» 


‘ torches  are  made  to  light, jewels  to  wear, 

Dainties  to  taste,  fresh  beauty  for  the  use, 

Herbs  for  their  smell,  and  sappy  plants  to  bear; 

Ihings  growing  to  themselves  are  growth’s  abuse  : 
^“Seeds  spring  from  seeds  and  beauty  breedeth  beauty  : 
Thou  wast  begot;  to  get  it  is  thy  duty. 

‘ Cpon  the  earth’s  increase  why  shouldst  thou  feed, 
Unless  the  earth  with  thy  increase  be  fed?  J7Q 

By  law  of  nature  thou  art  bound  to  breed, 

That  thine  may  live  when  thou  thyself  art  dead; 

And  so,  in  spite  of  death,  thou  dost  survive, 

In  that  thy  likeness  still  is  left  alive.’ 


By  this  the  love-sick  queen  began  to  sweat, 

For  where  they  lay  the  shadow  had  forsook  them, 
And  Titan, Tired  in  the  mid-day  heat, 

With  burning  eye  did  hotly  overlook  them; 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 
Wishing  Adonis  had  his  team  to  guide, 


S' 


V 

l **{  ] 


/ 


So  he  were  like  him  and  by  Venus,’  side. 

(j  -A  v -L>  - O'  - ^ - — — I 

And  now!  Adonis,  with  a lazfy  sprighr, 

And  with  a heavy,  dark,  disliking  eye, 

His  lowering  brows  o’erwhelming  his  fair  sight, 

Like  misty  vapours  when  they  blot  the  sky, 

Souring  his  cheeks,  cries  4 Fie,  no  more  of  love! 

The  sun  doth  burn  my  face;  I must  remove.’ 

4 Ay  me,’  quoth  Venus,  ‘young  and  so  unkind? 

What  bare  excuses  mak’st  thou  to  be  gone! 

I ’ll  sigh  celestial  breath,  whose  gentle  wind 
Shall  cool  the  heat  of  this  descending  sun  : 190 

I ’ll  make  a shadow  for  thee  of  my  hairs ; 

If  they  burn  too,  I ’ll  quench  them  with  my  tears. 

^ . I ; - ^ M L-W 

‘The  sun  tin  at  shines  from  heaven  shines  but  warm, 

And,  lo,  I lie  between  that  sun  and  thee : 

The  heat  I have  from  thence  doth  little  harm, 

Thine  eye  darts  forth  the  fire  that  burneth  me; 

And  were  I not  immortal,  life  were  done 
Between  this  heavenly  and  earthly  sun. 

‘ Art  thou  obdurate,  flinty,  hard  as  steel, 

Nay,  more  than  flint,  for  stone  at  rain  relenteth  ? 200 

Art  thou  a woman’s  son,  and  canst  not  feel 
What ’t  is  to  love?  how  want  of  love  tormenteth? 

O,  had  thy  mother  borne  so  hard  a mind, 

She  had  not  brought  forth  thee,  but  died  unkind  ! 

‘What  am  I,  that  thou  shouldst  contemn  me  this? 

Or  what  great  danger  dwells  upon  my  suit? 

What  were  thy  lips  the  worse  for  one  poor  kiss? 

Speak,  fair;  but  speak  fair  words,  or  else  be  mute: 

Give  me  one  kiss,  I ’ll  give  it  thee  again, 

And  one  for  interest,  if  thou  wilt  have  twain. 

D 


I If 


A 


5o 


SH A K ESP E A RE'S  POEMS. 


‘Fie,  lifeless  picture,  cold  and  senseless  stone, 
Well-painted  idol,  image  dull  and  dead, 

Statue  contenting  but  the  eye  alone, 

Thing  like  a man,  but  of  no  woman  bred ! 

Thou  art  no  man,  though  of  a man’s  complexion; 

For  men  will  kiss  even  by  their  own  direction.’ 

This  said,  impatience  chokes  her  pleading  tongue, 

And  swelling  passion  doth  provoke  a pause; 

Red  cheeks  and  fiery  eyes  blaze  forth  her  wrong; 

Being  judge  in  love,  she  cannot  right  her  cause:  220 

And  now  she  weeps,  and  now  she  fain  would  speak, 
And  now  her  sobs  do  her  intendments  break. 

Sometimes  she  shakes  her  head  and  then  his  hand, 
Now  gazeth  she  on  him,  now  on  the  ground ; 

Sometimes  her  arms  infold  him  like  a band: 

She  would,  he  will  not  in  her  arms  be  bound; 

And  when  from  thence  he  struggles  to  be  gone, 

She  locks  her  lily  fingers  one  in  one. 

> \yJ-\ l->  ' \ 

‘Fondling/  she  saith,  ‘since  I have  hemm’d  thee  here 
Within  the  circuit  of  this  ivory  pale,  230 

I ’ll  be  a park,  and  thou  shalt  be  my  deer; 

Feed  where  thou  wilt,  on  mountain  or  in  dale: 

Graze  on  my  lips;  and  if  those  hills  be  dry, 

Stray  lower,  where  the  pleasant  fountains  lie. 

‘Within  this  limit  is  relief  enough, 

- Sweet  bottom-grass  and  high  delightful  plain, 

Round  rising  hillocks,  brakes  obscure  and  rough, 

To  shelter  thee  from  tempest  and  from  rain : 

Then  be  my  deer,  since  I am  such  a park; 

No  dog  shall  rouse  thee,  though  a thousand  bark.’  240 

o - p p 7 

At  this  Adonis  smiles  as  in  disdain, 

That  in  each  cheek  appears  a pretty  dimple: 


V 


X V 
r ' 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 

Love  made  those  hollows,  if  himself  were  slain, 

He  might  be  buried  in  a tomb  so  simple ; 
Foreknowing  well,  if  there  he  came  toTie, 

Why,  there  Love  liv’d  and  there  he  could  not  die. 

These  lovely  caves,  these  round  enchanting  pits, 
Open’d  their  mouths  to  swallow  Venus’  liking. 

Being  mad  before,  how  doth  she  now  for  wits? 
Struck  dead  at  first,  what  needs  a second  striking? 
Poor  queen  of  love,  in  thine  own  law  forlorn, 

To  love  a cheek  that  smiles  at  thee  in  scorn  ! 

Now  which  way  shall  she  turn?  what  shall  she  say? 
Her  words  are  done,  lie r .woes  the  more  increasing; 
The  time  is  spent,  hefiobject  will  away, 

And  from  her  twining  arms  doth  urge  releasing. 

‘ Pity,’  she  cries,  4 some  favour,  some  remorse  1’ 
Away  he  springs  and  hasteth  to  his  horse. 


But,  lo,  from  forth  a copse  that  neighbours  by, 

A breeding  jennet,  fifsty,  young*  ancl  proud,  ^ 2( 

Adonis’  trampling  courser  doth  espy, 

And  forth  she  rushes,  snorts,  and  neighs  aloud ; 

The  strong-neck’d  steed,  being  tied  unto  a tree, 
Breaketh  his  rein,  and  to  her  straight  goes  he. 

Imperiously  he  leaps,  he  neighs,  he  bounds, 

And  now  his  woven  girths  he  breaks  asunder; 

The  bearing  earth  with  his  hard  hoof  he  wounds, 
Whose  hollow  womb  resounds  like  heaven’s  thunder; 
The  iron  bit  lie  crushes  ’tween  his  teeth, 

Controlling  what  he  was  controlled  with. 


His  ears  up-prick’d;  his  braided  hanging  mane  , 
Upon  his  compass^3  crest  now  stand  on  end; 
His  nostrils  drink  the  air,  and  forth  again, 

As  from  a furnace,  vapours  doth  he  send ; 

# 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


His  eye,  which  scornfully  glisters  like  fire, 

Shows  his  hot  courage  and  his  high  desire. 

Sometime  he  trots,  as  if  he  told  the  steps. 

With  gentle  majesty  and  modest  pride; 

Anon  he  rears  upright,  curvets,  and  leaps, 

As  who  should  say  ‘Lo,  thus  my  strength  is  tried,  2So 
And  this  I do  to  captivate  the  eye 
Of  the  fair  breeder  that  is  standing  by.’ 

What  recketh  he  his  rider’s  angry  stir, 

His  flattering  ‘ Holla,’  or  his  ‘Stand,  I say’? 

What  cares  he  now  for  curb  or  pricking  spur? 

For  rich  caparisons  or  trapping  gay? 

He  sees  his  love,  and  nothing  else  he  sees, 

For  nothing  else  with  his  proud  sight  agrees. 

Look,  when  a painter  would  surpass  the  life, 

In  limning  out  a well-proportion’d  steed,  2go 

His  art  with  nature’s  workmanship  at  strife. 

As  if  the  dead  the  living  should  exceed  ; 

So  did  this  horse  excel  a common  one 
In  shape,  in  courage,  colour,  pace,  and  bone. 

Round-hoof’d,  short-jointed,  fetlocks  shag  and  long, 
Broad  breast,  full  eye,  small  head,  and  nostril  wide, 

High  crest,  shoit  eais,  straight  legs  and  passing  strong, 
Ihin  mane,  thick  tail,  broad  buttock,  tender  hide: 

Look,  what  a horse  should  have  he  did  not  lack, 

Save  a proud  rider  on  so  proud  a back.  30o 

Sometime  he  scuds  far  off,  and  there  he  stares; 

Anon  he  starts  at  stirring  of  a feather; 

To  bid  the  wind  a base  he  now  prepares, 

And  whether  he  run  or  fly  they  know  not  whether; 

For  through  his  mane  and  tail  the  high  wind  sings, 
Fanning  the  hairs,  who  wave  like  feather’d  wings. 


FENDS  and  adonis. 


He  looks  upon  his  love  and  neighs  unto  her; 

She  answers  him  as  if  she  knew  his  mind : 

Being  proud,  as  females  are,  to  see  him  woo  her, 
She  puts  on  outward  strangeness,  seems  unkind, 
Spurns  at  his  love  and  scorns  the  heat  he  feels, 
Beating  his  kind  embracements  with  her  heels. 

Then,  like  a melancholy  malcontent, 

He  vails  his  tail  that,  like  a falling  plume, 

Cool  shadow  to  his  melting  buttock  lent; 

He  stamps  and  bites  the  poor  flies  in  his  fume. 

His  love,  perceiving  how  lie  is  enraged. 

Grew  kinder,  and  his  fury  was  assuag’d. 

His  testy  master  goeth  about  to  take  him; 

When,  lo,  the  unback’d  breeder,  full  of  fear, 

Jealous  of  catching,  swiftly  doth  forsake  him, 

With  her  the  horse,  and  left  Adonis  there: 

As  they  were  mad,  unto  the  wood  they  hie  them, 
Out-stripping  crows  that  strive  to  over-fly  them. 

All  swoln  with  chafing,  down  Adonis  sits, 

Banning  his  boisterous  and  unruly  beast: 

And  now  the  happy  season  once  more  fits, 

That  love-sick  Love  by  pleading  may  be  blest; 

For  lovers  say,  the  heart  hath  treble  wrong 
When  it  is  barr’d  the  aidance  of  the  tongue. 

. v" 

An  ovenjhaJ;  i&-Stopft’d,  or  river  stay’d, 

Burneth  more  hotly,  swelleth  with  more  rage: 

So  of  concealed  sorrow  may  be  said; 

Free  vent  of  words  lov^  fire  doth  assuage; 

But  when  the  heart’s  attorney  once  is  mute.  &X 
The  client  breaks,  as  desperate  in  his  suit. 

He  sees  her  coming,  and  begins  to  glow, 

Even  as  a dying  coal  revives  with  wind, 


/ 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 

And  with  his  bonnet  hides  his  angry  brow; 

Looks  on  the  dull  earth  with  disturbed  mind, 

Taking  no  notice  that  she  is  so  nigh, 

For  all  askance  he  holds  her  in  his  eye. 

O,  what  a sight  it  was,  wistly  to  view 
How  she  came  stealing  to  the  wayward  boy! 

To  note  the  fighting  conflict  of  her  hue, 

How  white  and  red  each  other  did  destroy! 

But  now  her  cheek  was  pale,  and  by  and  by 
It  flash’d  forth  fire,  as  lightning  from  the  sky. 

Now  was  she  just  before  him  as  he  sat, 

And  like  a lowly  lover  down  she  kneels; 

With  one  fair  hand  she  heaveth  up  his  hat, 

Her  other  tender  hand  his  fair  cheek  feels: 

His  tenderer  cheek  receives  her  soft  hand’s  print, 

As  apt  as  new-fallen  snow  takes  any  dint. 

O,  what  a war  of  looks  was  then  between  them ! 

Her  eyes  petitioners  to  his  eyes  suing; 

His  eyes  saw  her  eyes  as  they  had  not  seen  them  ; 

Her  eyes  woo’d  still,  his  eyes  disdain’d  the  wooing: 
And  all  this  dumb  play  had  his  acts  made  plain 
With  tears,  which,  chorus-like,  her  eyes  did  rain. 

Full  gently  now  she  takes  him  by  the  hand, 

A lily  prison’d  in  a gaol  of  snow, 

Or  ivory  in  an  alabaster  band  ; 

So  white  a friend  engirts  so  white  a foe: 

This  beauteous  combat,  wilful  and  unwilling, 

Show’d  like  two  silv£L£lpves  that  sit  a-billing. 

Once  more  the  engine  of  her  thoughts  began: 

‘O  fairest  mover  on  this  mortal  round, 

Would  thou  wert  as  I am,  and  I a man, 

My  heart  all  whole  as  thine,  thy  heart  my  wound  ; 370 


36a 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


55 


For  one  sweet  look  thy  help  I would  assure  thee, 
Though  nothing  but  my  body’s  bane  would  cure  thee.’ 

‘Give  me  my  hand,’  saith  he,  ‘ why  dost  thou  feel  it?’ 

‘ Give  me  my  heart,’  saith  she,  ‘ and  thou  shalt  have  it; 
O,  give  it  me,  lest  thy  hard  heart  do  steel  it, 

And  being  steel’d,  soft  sighs  can  never  grave  it . 

Then  love’s  deep  groans  I never  shall  regard. 

Because  Adonis’  heart  hath  made  mine  hard.’ 

Cj  ‘ For  shame,’  he  cries,  ‘ let  go,  and  let  me  go ; 

My  day’s  delight  is  past,  my  horsg  is  gone,  - 380 

And ’t  is  your  fault  I am  bereft  him  so. 

I pray  you  hence,  and  leave  me  here  alone ; 

For  all  my  mind,  my  thought,  my  busy  care, 

Is  how  to  get  my  palfrey  from  the  mare.’ 

Thus  she  replies:  ‘Thy  palfrey,  as  he  should, 

Welcomes  the  warm  approach  of  sweet  desire : 

Affection  is  a coal  that  must  be  cool’d ; 

Else,  suffer’d,  it  will  set  the  heait  on  fire. 

The  sea  hath  bounds,  but  deep  desire  hath  none  ; 
Therefore  no  marvel  though  thy  horse  be  gone.  390 

< pjow  like  a jade  he  stood,  tied  to  the  tiee, 

Servilely  master’d  with  a leathern  rein  ! 

But  when  he  saw  his  love,  his  youth’s  fair  fee, 

He  held  such  petty  bondage  in  disdain  ; 

Throwing  the  base  thong  from  his  bending  crest, 
Enfranchising  his  mouth,  his  back,  his  breast. 

‘Who  sees  his  true-love  in  her  naked  bed,  . 
Teaching  the  sheets  a whiter  hue  than  white,  ‘ 

But,  when  his  glutton  eye  so  full  hath  fed, 

His  other  agents  aim  at  like  delight?  400 

Who  is  so  faint,  that  dare  not  be  so  bold 
To  touch  the  fire,  the  weather  being  cold  ? 


SHAKESPXAK&S  POEMS 1 

'Let  me  excuse  thy  courser,  gentle  boy; 

And  learn  of  him,  I heartily  beseech  thee, 

To  take  advantage  on  presented  joy ; 

Though  I were  dumb,  yet  his  proceedings  teach  thee: 
O,  learn  to  love;  the  lesson  is  but  plain, 

And  once  made  perfect,  never  lost  again.’ 

‘ ^ know  not  love,’  quoth  he,  ‘ nor  will  not  know  it. 
Unless  it  be  a bqar>  and  then  I chase  it;  4 

’T  is  much  to  borrow,  and  I will  not  owe  it ; 

My  love  to  love  is  love  but  to  disgrace  it; 

For  I have  heard'  it  is  a life  in  death, 

That  laughs  and  weeps,  and  all  but  with  a breath. 


‘ Who  wears  a garment  shapeless  and  unfinish’d  ? 

Who  plucks  the  bud  before  one  leaf  put  forth  ? 

If  springing  things  be  any  jot  diminish’d, 

They  wither  in  their  prime,  prove  nothing  worth; 

T he  colt  that  s back  d and  burden’d  being  young 
Loseth  his  pride  and  never  waxeth  strong.  ° 42 

‘You  hurt  my  hand  with  wringing;  let  us  part, 

And  leave  this  idle  theme,  this  bootless  chat: 

Remove  your  siege  from  my  unyielding  heart; 

To  love’s  alarms  it  will  not  ope  the  gate: 

Dismiss  your  vows,  your  feigned  tears,  your  flattery; 
For  where  a heart  is  hard  they  make  no  batjery.’ 


‘ What ! canst  thou  talk  ?’  quoth_sbe,  ‘ hast  thou  a tongue  ? 
O,  would  thou  badst  not,  ofThad  no  hearing! 

I hy  mermaid  s voice  hath  done  me  double  wrong; 

I bad  my  load  before,  now  press'd  with  bearing:  430 

Melodious  discord,  heavenly  tune  harsh-sounding, 
Ear’s  deep-sweet  music,  and  heart’s  deep-sore  wound- 
ing. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


57 


6 Had  I no  eyes  but  ears,  my  ears  would  love 
That  inward  beauty  and  invisible ; 

Or  were  I deaf,  thy  outward  parts  would  move 
Each  part  in  me  that  were  but  sensible: 

Though  neither  eyes  nor  ears,  to  hear  nor  see, 

Yet  should  I be  in  love  by  touching  thee. 

‘ Say,  that  the  sense  of  feeling  were  bereft  me, 

And  that  I could  not  see,  nor  hear,  nor  touch,  44° 

And  nothing  but  the  very  smell  were  left  me, 

Yet  would  my  lo^e  to  thegjpe  still  as  much ; 

For  from  the  stilTitory  of  tliy  face  excelling  <o 

Comes  breath  perfum’d  that  breedeth  love  by  smelling.  — 

‘ But,  O,  what  banquet  wert  thou  to  the  taste, 

Being  nurse  and  feeder  of  the  other  four! 

Would  they  not  wish  the  feast  might  ever  last, 

And  bid  Suspicion  double-lock  the  door, 

Lest  Jealousy,  that  sour  unwelcome  guest, 

Should,  by  his  stealing  in,  disturb  the  feast  ?’  450 

Once  more  the  ruby-colour’d  portal  open’d, 

Which  to  his  speech  did  honey  passage  yield ; 

Like  a red  morn,  that  ever  yet  betoken’d 
Wrack  to  the  seaman,  tempest  to  the  field, 

Sorrow  to  shepherds,  woe  unto  the  birds,  - 
Gusts  and  flaws  to  herdmen  and  to  herds. 

This  ill  presage  advisedly  she  marketh  ; 

Even  as  the  wind  is  hush-kj-Jbefore  it  rai.net  h, 

Or  as  the  wolf  doth  grin  before  he  barketh, 

Or  as~the  berry  breaks  before  it  staineth,  4^0 

Or  like  the  deadly  bullet  of  a gun, 

His  meaning  struck  her  ere  his  words  begun. 

And  at  his  look  she  flatly  falleth  down, 

For  looks  kill  love  and  love  by  looks  reviveth ; 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


A smile  recures  the  wounding  of  a frown  ; 

But  blessed  bankrupt,  that  by  love  so  thriveth  ! 

The  silly  boy,  believing  she  is  dead, 

Claps  her  pale  cheek,  till  clapping  makes  it  red : 


And  all  amaz’d  brake  off*  his  late  intent, 

For  sharply  he  did  think  to  reprehend  her, 
Which  cunning  love  did  wittily  prevent: 

Fair  fall  the  wit  that  can  so  well  defend  her! 
<^For  on  the  grass  she  lies  as  she  were  slain, 
Till  his  breath  breatheth  life  in  her  again. 


47° 


He  wrings  her  nose,  he  strikes  her  on  the  cheeks, 

He  bends  her  fingers,  holds  her  pulses  hard, 

He  chafes  her  lips;  a thousand  ways  he  seeks 
To  mend  the  hurt  that  his  unkindness  marr’d : 

He  kisses  her;  and  she,  by  her  good  will, 

Will  never  rise,  so  he  will  kiss  her  still.  4^0 


The  night  of  sorrow  now  is  turn’d  to  day; 

Her  two  blue  windows  faintly  she  upheaveth, 

Like  the  fair  sun,  when  in  his  fresh  array 
He  cheers  the  morn  and  all  the  earth  relieveth ; 

And  as  the  bright  sun  glorifies  the  sky, 

So  is  her  face  illumin’d  with  her  eye, 

Whose  beams  upon  his  hairless  face  are  fix’d, 

As  if  from  thence  they  borrow’d  all  their  shine. 

Were  never  four  such  lamps  together  mix’d, 

Had  not  his  clouded  with  his  brow’s  repine ; 490 

But  hers,  which  through  the  crystal  tears  gave  light, 
Shone  like  the  moon  in  water  seen  by  night. 

‘ O,  where  am  I ?’  quoth  she,  ‘ in  earth  or  heaven, 

Or  in  the  ocean  drench’d,  or  in  the  fire? 

What  hour  is  this?  or  morn  or  weary  even? 

Do  I delight  to  die,  or  life  desire  ? 


VENUS  AND  ADON/S. 


59 


But  now  I liv’d,  and  life  was  death’s  annoy ; 

But  now  I died,  and  death  was  lively  joy. 

‘O,  thou  didst  kill  me;  kill  me  once  again  : 

Thy  eyes’  shrewd  tutor,  that  hard  heart  of  thine,  500 
Hath  taught  them  scornful  tricks  and  such  disdain 
That  they  have  murther’d  this  poor  heart  of  mine ; 

And  these  mine  eyes,  true  leaders  to  their  queen, 

But  for  thy  piteous  lips  no  more  had  seen. 

‘Long  may  they  kiss  each  other,  for  this  cure ! 

O,  never  let  their  crimson  liveries  wear ! 

And  as  they  last,  their  verdure  still  endure, 

To  drive  infection  from  the  dangerous  year! 

That  the  star-gazers,  having  writ  on  death, 

May  say,  the  plague  is  banish’d  by  thy  breath.  510 

‘Pure  lips,  sweet  seals  in  my  soft  lips  imprinted, 

What  bargains  may  I make,  still  to  be  sealing? 

To  sell  myself  I can  be  well  contented, 

So  thou  wilt  buy  and  pay  and  use  good  dealing; 

Which  purchase  if  thou  make,  for  fear  of  slips 
Set  thy  seal-manual  on  my  wax-red  lips. 

‘A  thousand  kisses  buys  my  heart  from  me; 

And  pay  them  at  thy  leisure,  one  by  one. 

What  is  ten  hundred  touches  unto  thee? 

Are  they  not  quickly  told  and  quickly  gone?  520 

Say,  for  non-payment  that  the  debt  should  double, 

Is  twenty  hundred  kisses  such  a trouble  ?’ 

‘Fair  queen,’  quoth  he,  ‘if  any  love  you  owe  me, 
Measure  my  strangeness  with  my  unripe  years : 

Before  I know  myself,  seek  not  to  know  me; 

No  fisher  but  the  ungrown  fry  forbears: 

The  mellow  plum  doth  fall,  the  green  sticks  fast, 
OrdSemg  early  pluck’d  is  sour  to  taste. 


m 

U I 


m 


j ;l 


\ 


v/ 


if 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 

‘ Look,  the  world’s  comforter,  with  weary  gait, 

His  clay’s  hot  task  hath  ended  in  the  west; 

.The  owl,  night’s  herald,  shrieks,  “ ’T  is  very  late 
The  sheep  are  gone  to  fold,  birds  to  their  nest, 

And  coal-black  clouds  that  shadow  heaven’s  light 
Do  summon  us  to  part  and  bid  good  night. 

‘ Now  let  me  say  “ Good  night,”  and  so  say  you ; 

If  you  will  say  so,  you  shall  have  a kiss.’ 

4 Good  night,’  quoth  she,  and,  ere  he  says  4 Adieu,’ 

The  honey  fee  of  parting  tender’d  is*: 

Her  arms  do  lend  his  neck  a sweet  embrace; 
Incorporate  then  they  seem;  face  grows  to  face.  54o 

I ill,  breathless,  he  disjoin’d,  and  backward  drew 
The  heavenly  moisture,  that  sweet  coral  mouth, 

Whose  precious  taste  her  tjairsiy  lips  well  knew, 
Whereon  they  surfeit,  yet  complain  on  drouth: 

He  with  her  plenty  press’d,  she  faint  with  dearth, 
Their  lips  together  glued,  fall  to  the  earth. 

Now  quick  desire  hath  caught  the  yielding  prey, 

And  glutton-like  she  feeds,  yet  never  filleth; 

Her  lips  are  conquerors,  his  lips  obey, 

Paying  what  ransom  the  insulter  willeth;  55o 

Whose  vulture  thought  doth  pitch  the  price  so  high, 
That  .she  will  draw  his  lips’  rich  treasure  dry: 

And  having  felt  the  sweetness  of  the  spoil, 

With  blindfold  fury  she  begins  to  forage; 

Her  face  doth  reek  and  smoke,  her  blood  doth  boil, 

And  careless  lust  stirs  up  a desperate  courage; 

Planting  oblivion,  beating  reason  back, 

Forgetting  shame’s  pure  blush  and  honour’s  wrack. 

Hot,  faint,  and  weary,  with  her  hard  embracing, 

Like  a wild  bird  being  tam’d  with  too  much  handling, 


VENUS  AND  A DON  IS. 


6 I 

Or  as  the  fleet-foot  roe  that ’s  tir’d  with  chasing,  561 
Or  like  the  froward  infant  still’d  with  dandling, 

He  now  obeys,  and  now  no  more  resisteth, 

While  she  takes  all  she  can,  not  all  she  listeth. 

What  wax  so  frozen  but  dissolves  with  tempering, 
-TAwF-yrekfs  at  last  to  every  light  impression  ? 

Things  out  of  hope  are  compass’d  oft  with  venturing, 
Chiefly  in  love,  whose  leave  exceeds  commission ; 
Affection  faints  not  like  a pale-fac’d  coward, 

But  then  wooes  best  when  most  his  choice  is  froward. 

When  he  did  frown,  O,  had  she  then  gave  over,  571 
Such  nectar  from  his  lips  she  had  not  suck’d. 

Foul  words  and  frowns  must  not  repel  a lover; 

What  though  the  rose  have  prickles,  yet ’t  is  pluck’d: 
Were  beauty  under  twenty  locks  kept  fast, 

Yet  love  breaks  through  and  picks  them  all  at  last. 

For  pity  now  she  can  no  more  detain  him  ; 

The  poor  fool  prays  her  that  he  may  depart: 

She  is  resolv’d  no  longer  to  restrain  him; 

Bids  him  farewell,  and  look  well  to  her  heart,  5^0 

The  which,  by  Cupid’s  bow  she  doth  protest, 

He  carries  thence  incaged  in  his  breast. 

‘ Sweet  boy,’  she  says,  ‘ this  night  I ’ll  waste  in  sorrow, 
For  my  sick  heart  commands  mine  eyes  to  watch. 

Tell  me,  Love’s  master,  shall  we  meet  to-morrow  ? 

Say,  shall  we?  shall  we?  wilt  thou  make  the  match?’ 
He  tells  her,  no;  to-morrow  he  intends 
To  hunt  the  boar  with  certain  of  his  friends. 

‘The  boar!’  quoth  she;  whereat  a sudden  pale,' 

Like  lawn  being  spread  upon  the  blushing  rose, 

Usurps  her  cheek  ; she  trembles  at  his  tale, 

And  on  his  neck  her  yoking  arms  she  throws: 


590 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


She  sinketh  down,  still  hanging  by  his  neck, 

He  on  her  belly  falls,  she  on  her  back. 

Now  is  she  in  the  very  lists  of  love, 

Her  champion  mounted  for  the  hot  encounter: 

All  is  imaginary  she  doth  prove, 

He  will  not  manage  her,  although  he  mount  her; 

That  worse  than  Tantalus’  is  her  annoy, 

To  clip  Elysium  and  to  lack  her  joy  . 600 

Evep  as  poor  birds,  deceiv’d  with  painted  grapes, 

Do  stirfeit  by  the  eye  and  pine  the  maw, 

Even  so  she  languished!  in  her  mishaps, 

As  those  poor  birds  that  helpless  berries  saw. 

The  warm  effects  which  she  in  him  finds  missing 
She  seeks  to  kindle  with  continual  kissing. 

But  all  in  vain ; good  queen,  it  will  not  be: 

•She  hath  assay’d  as  much  as  may  be  prov’d  ; 

Her  pleading  hath  deserv’d  a greater  fee; 

She ’s  Love,  she  loves,  and  yet  she  is  not  lov’d.  610 
4 Fie,  fie,’  he  says,  ‘you  crush  me;  let  me  go; 

You  have  no  reason  to  withhold  me  so.’ 

‘ Thou  hadst  been  gone,’  quoth  she,  ‘sweet  boy,  ere  this, 
But  that  thou  told’st  me  thou  wouldst  hunt  the  boar. 

O,  be  advis’d  1 thou  know’st  not  what  it  is 
With  javelin’s  point  a churlish  swine  to  gore, 

Whose  tushes  never  sheath’d  he  whetteth  still, 

Like  to  a mortal  butcher  bent  to  kill. 

4 On  his  bow-back  he  hath  a battle  set 

Of  bristly  pikes,  that  ever  threat  his  foes;  620 

His  eyes,  like  glow-worms,  shine  when  he  doth  fret; 

His  snout  digs  sepulchres  where’er  he  goes ; 

Being  mov’d,  he  strikes  whate’er  is  in  his  way, 

And  whom  he  strikes  his  crooked  tushes  slay. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


63 


‘ His  brawny  sides,  with  hairy  bristles  arm’d, 

Are  better  proof  than  thy  spear’s  point  can  enter; 

His  short  thick  neck  cannot  be  easily  harm’d ; 

Being  ireful,  on  the  lion  he  will  venture : 

The  thorny  brambles  and  embracing  bushes, 

As  fearful  of  him,  part,  through  whom  he  rushes.  630 


4 Alas,  he  nought  esteems  that  face  of  thine, 

To  which  Love’s  eyes  pay  tributary  gazes; 

Nor  thy  soft  hands,  sweet  lips,  and  crystal. ^yne. 
Whose  full  perfection  all  the  world  amazes; 

But  having  thee  at  vantage, — wondrous  dread  ! — 
Would  root  these  beauties  as  he  roots  the  mead. 


‘O,  let  him  keep  his  loathsome  cabin  still ; 

Beauty  hath  nought  to  do  with  such  foul  fiends: 
Come  not  within  his  danger  by  thy  will; 

TheyJ; h a t*-thr i ve  well  take  counsel  of  their  friends. 
When  thou  didst  name  the  boar,  not  to  dissemble, 
I fear’d  thy  fortune,  and  my  joints  did  tremble. 


640 


‘ Didst  thou  not  mark  my  face  ? was  it  not  white  ? 
Saw’st  thou  not  signs  of  fear  lurk  in  mine  eye  ? 

Grew  I not  faint?  and  fell  I not  downright? 

Within  my  bosom,  whereon  thou  dost  lie, 

My  boding  heart  pants,  beats,  and  takes  no  rest, 
But,  like  an  earthquake,  shakes  thee  on  my  breast. 


‘For  where  Love  reigns,  disturbing  Jealousy 

Doth  call  himself  Affection’s  sentinel ; 6sq 

Gives  false  alarms,  suggesteth  mutiny, 

And  in  a peaceful  hour  doth  cry  “ Kill,  kill !” 
Distempering  gentle  Love  in  his  desire, 

As  air  and  water  do  abate  the  fire. 


‘This  sour  informer,  this  bate-breeding  spy, 
This  canker  that  eats  up  Love’s  tender  spring, 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


This  carry-tale,  dissentious  Jealousy, 

That  sometime  true  news,  sometime  false  doth  bring, 
Knocks  at  my  heart  and  whispers  in  mine  ear 
That  if  I love  thee,  I thy  death  should  fear:  66a 

c And  more  than  so,  presented:  to  mine  eye 
The  picture  of  an  angry-chafing  boar, 

Under  whose  sharp  fangs  on  his  back  doth  lie 
An  image  like  thyself,  all  stain’d  with  gore ; 

frosc  blood  upon  the  fresh  flowers  being  shed 
Doth  make  them  droop  with  grief  and  hang  the  head. 

‘ What  should  I do,  seeing  thee  so  indeed, 

That  tremble  at  the  imagination  ? 

The  thought  of  it  doth  make  my  faint  heart  bleed, 

And  fear  doth  teach  it  divination ; 6/° 

I prophesy  thy  death,  my  living  sorrow, 

If  thou  encounter  with  the  boar  to-morrow. 

4 But  if  thou  needs  wilt  hunt,  be  rul’d  by  me ; 

Uncouple  at  the  timorous  flying. hare, 

Or  at  the  fox  which  lives  by  subtlety, 

Or  at  the  roe  which  no  encounter  dare: 

Pursue  these  fearful  creatures  o’er  the  downs, 

And  on  thy  well-breath’d  horse  keep  with  thy  hounds. 

< And  when  thou  hast  on  foot  the  purblindjiare, 

Mark  the  poor  wretch,  to  overshoot  his  troubles  680 
How  he  outruns  the  wind,  and  with  what  care 
He  cranks  and  crosses  with  a thousand  doubles; 

The  many  musits  through  the  which  he  goes 
Are  like  a labyrinth  to  amaze  his  foes. 

* Sometime  he  runs  among  a flock  of  sheep, 

To  make  the  cunning  hounds  mistake  their  smell, 

And  sometime  where  earth-delving  conies  keep, 

To  stop  the  loud  pursuers  in  their  yell, 


And  sometime  sorteth  with  a herd  of  deer; 

Danger  deviseth  shifts,  wit  waits  on  fear: 

‘For  there  his  smell  with  others  being  mingled, 

The  hot  scent-snuffing  hounds  are  driven  to  doubt, 
Ceasing  their  clamorous  cry  till  they  have  singled 
With  much  ado  the  cold  fault  cleanly  out; 

Then  do  they  spend  their  mouths : Echo  replies, 

As  if  another  chase  were  in  the  skies. 

‘ By  this,  poor  Wat,  far  off  upon  a hill, 

Stands  on  his  hinder  legs  with  listening  ear, 

To  hearken  if  his  foes  pursue  him  still  : 

Anon  their  loud  alarums  he  doth  hear; 

And  now  his  grief  may  be  compared  well 
To  one  sore  sick  that  hears  the  passing-bell. 

‘Then  shalt  thou  see  the  dew-bedabbled  wretch 
Turn,  and  return,  indenting  with  the  way; 

Each  envious  brier  his  weary  legs  doth  scratch, 

Each  shadow  makes  him  stop,  each  murmur  stay: 

For  misery  is  trodden  on  by  many, 

And  being  low  never  reliev’d  by  any. 

‘ Lie  quietly,  and  hear  a little  more ; 

Nay,  do  not  struggle,  for  thou  shalt  not  rise: 

To  make  thee  hate  the  hunting  of  the  boar, 

Unlike  myself  thou  hear’st  me  moralize, 

Applying  this  to  that,  and  so  to  so; 

For  love  can  comment  upon  every  woe. 

‘Where  did  I leave?’  ‘No  matter  where;’  quoth  he, 

‘ Leave  me,  and  then  the  story  aptly  ends : 

The  night  is  spent.’  ‘ Why,  what  of  that  ?’  quoth  she. 

‘I  am,’  quoth  he,  ‘expected  of  my  friends; 

And  now ’t  is  dark,  and  going  I shall  fall.’  ; ^ Cf  > 

‘In  night,’  quoth  she,  ‘desire  sees  best  of  all.  ***  ho 
E 


. 

ill ; 


66 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


‘But  if  thou  fall,  0,  then  imagine  this, 

The  earth,  in  love  with  thee,  thy  footing  trips, 

And  all  is  but  to  rob  thee  of  a kiss. 

Rich  preys  make  true  men  thieves;  so  do  thy  lips 
Make  modestDian  cloudy  and  forlorn, 

Lest  she  should  steal  a kiss  and  die  forsworn. 


‘ Now  of  this  dark  night  I perceive  the  reason: 

Cynthia  for  shame  obscures  her  silver  shine, 

Till  forging  Nature  be  condemn'd  of  treason, 

For  stealing  moulds  from  heaven  that  were  divine;  730 
Wherein  she  fram’d  thee  in  high  heaven’s  despite, 

To  shame  the  sun  by  day  and  her  by  night. 


And  therefore  hath  she  brib’d  the  Destinies 
\To  cross  the  curious  workmanship  of  nature, 
To  mingle  beauty  with  infirmities, 

And  pure  perfection  with  impure  defeature, 
Making  it  subject  to  the  tyranny 
Of  mad  mischances  and  much  misery ; 


‘ As  burning  fevers,  agues  pale  and  faint, 
Life-poisoning  pestilence  and  frenzies  wood, 

The  marrow-eating  sickness,  whose  attaint 
Disorder  breeds  by  heating  of  the  blood  : 

Surfeits,  imposthumes,  grief,  and  damn’d  despair, 
\x  - Swear  Nature’s  death  for  framing  thee  so  fair. 

4 And  not  the  least  of  all  these  maladies 
But  in  one  minute’s  fight  brings  beauty  under: 
Both  favour,  savour,  hue,  and  qualities, 

Whereat  the  impartial  gazer  late  did  wonder, 

Are  on  the  sudden  wasted,  thaw’d,  and  done, 

As  mountain  snow  melts  with  the  mid-day  sun. 

' ^‘Therefore,  despite  of  fruitless  chastity, 
Love-lacking  vestals  and  self-loving  nuns, 


740 


750 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS . 


67 


That  on  the  earth  would  breed  a scarcity 
And  barren  dearth  of  daughters  and  of  sons, 

Be  prodigal ; the  lamp  that  burns  by  night 
Dries  up  his  oil  to  lend  the  world  his  light. 

4 What  is  thy  body  but  a swallowing  grave, 

Seeming  to  bury  that  posterity 

Which  by  the  rights  of  time  thou  needs  must  have, 

If  thou  destroy  them  not  in  dark  obscurity  ? 76a 

If  so,  the  world  will  hold  thee  in  disdain, 

Sith  in  thy  pride  so  fair  a hope  is  slain. 


‘ So  in  thyself  thyself  art  made  away; 

A mischief  worse  than  civil  home-bred  strife, 

Or  theirs  whose  desperate  hands  themselves  do  slay, 

| Or  butcher-sire that  reaves  his  son  of  life. 

Foul-cankering  rust  the  hidden  treasure  frets, 
vBut  gold  that ’s  put  to  use  more  gold  begets.’ 

‘Nay,  then,’  quoth  Adon, ‘you  will  fall  again 

Into  your  idle  over-handled  theme:  77a 

The  kiss  I gave  you  is  bestow’d  in  vain, 

And  all  in  vain  you  strive  against  the  stream; 

For,  by  this  black-fac’d  night,  desire’s  foul  nurse, 
Your  treatise  makes  me  like  you  worse  and  worse. 


‘If  love  have  lent  you  twenty  thousand  tongues, 

And  every  tongue  more  moving  than  your  own, 
Bewitching  like  the  wanton  mermaid’s  songs, 

Yet  from  mine  ear  the  tempting  tune  is  blown; 

For  know,  my  heart  stands  armed  in  mine  ear, 

And  will  not  let  a false  sound  enter  there,  780 


‘Lest  the  deceiving  harmony  should  run 
Into  the  quiet  closure  of  my  breast; 

And  then  my  little  heart  were  quite  undone, 
In  his  bedchamber  to  be  barr’d  of  rest. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 

No,  lady,  no;  my  heart  longs  not  to  groan, 

But  soundly  sleeps,  while  now  it  sleeps  alone. 

* What  have  you  urg’d  that  I cannot  reprove  ? 

The  path  is  smooth  that  leadeth  on  to  danger: 

I hate  not  love,  but  your  device  in  love, 

That  lends  embracements  unto  every  stranger. 

You  do  it  for  increase;  O strange  excuse, 

When  reason  is  the  bawd  to  lust’s  abuse ! 

‘ Call  it  not  love,  for  Love  to  heaven  is  fled, 

Since  sweating  Lust  on  earth  usurp’d  his  name; 
Under  whose  simple  semblance  he  hath  fed 
Upon  fresh  beauty,  blotting  it  with  blame; 

Which  the  hot  tyrant  stains  and  soon  bereaves, 
As  caterpillars  do  the  tender  leaves. 

‘Love  comforteth  like  sunshine  after  rain, 

But  Lust’s  effect  is  tempest  after  sun ; 

Love’s  gentle  spring  doth  always  fresh  remain, 
Lust’s  winter  comes  ere  summer  half  be  done; 

Love  surfeits  not,  Lust  like  a glutton  dies; 

Love  is  all  truth,  Lust  full  of  forged  lies. 

‘ More  I could  tell,  but  more  I dare  not  say; 

The  text  is  old,  the  orator  too  green. 

Therefore,  in  sadness,  now  I will  away: 

My  face  is  full  of  shame,  my  heart  of  teen ; 

Mine  ears,  that  to  your  wanton  talk  attended, 

Do  burn  themselves  for  having  so  offended.’ 

With  this,  he  breaketh  from  the  sweet  embrace 
Of  those  fair  arms  which  bound  him  to  her  breast, 
And  homeward  through  the  dark  laund  runs  apace 
Leaves  Love  upon  her  back  deeply  distress’d. 
Look,  how  a bright  star  shooteth  from  the  sky, 
So  glides  he  in  the  night  from  Venus’  eye; 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS . 


6 9 


Which  after  him  she  darts,  as  one  on  shore 
Gazing  upon  a late-embarked  friend, 

Till  the  wild  waves  will  have  him  seen  no  more, 

Whose  ridges  with  the  meeting  clouds  contend : 82a 

So  did  the  merciless  and  pitchy  night 
Fold  in  the  object  that  did  feed  her  sight. 

Whereat  amaz’d,  as  one  that  unaware 
Hath  dropp’d  a precious  jewel  in  the  flood, 

Or  ’stonish’d  as  night-wanderers  often  are, 

Their  light  blown  out  in  some  mistrustful  wood, 

Even  so  confounded  in  the  dark  she  lay, 

Having  lost  the  fair  discovery  of  her  way. 

And  now  she  beats  her  heart,  whereat  it  groans, 

That  all  the  neighbour  caves,  as  seeming  troubled,  830 
Make  verbal  repetition  of  her  moans ; 

Passion  on  passion  deeply  is  redoubled : 

4 Ay  me  !’  she  cries,  and  twenty  times  4 Woe,  woe  !’ 
And  twenty  echoes  twenty  times  cry  so. 

She  marking  them  begins  a wailing  note 
And  sings  extemporally  a woeful  ditty: 

How  love  makes  young  men  thrall  and  old  men  dote; 
How  love  is  wise  in  folly,  foolish-witty. 

Her  heavy  anthem  still  concludes  in  woe, 

And  still  the  choir  of  echoes  answer  so.  s^o 

Her  song  was  tedious  and  outwore  the  night, 

For  lovers’  hours  are  long,  though  seeming  short ; 

If  pleas’d  themselves,  others,  they  think,  delight 
In  such-like  circumstance,  with  such-like  sport; 

Their  copious  stories  oftentimes  begun 
End  without  audience  and  are  never  done. 

For  who  hath  she  to  spend  the  night  withal 
But  idle  sounds  resembling  parasites, 


7° 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Like  shrill-tongued  tapsters  answering  every  call, 
Soothing  the  humour  of  fantastic  wits?  * 

She  says  ‘ ’T  is  so they  answer  all  ‘ ’T  is  so;’ 

And  would  say  after  her,  if  she  said  ‘ No.’ 

Lo,  here- the  gentle  lark,  weary  of  rest, 

From  his  moist  cabinet  mounts  up  on  high, 

And  wakes  the  morning,  from  whose  silver  breast 
The  sun  ariseth  in  his  majesty ; 

Who  doth  the  world  so  gloriously  behold 
That  cedar-tops  and  hills  seem  burnish’d  gold. 

Venus  salutes  him  with  this  fair  good-morrow : 

‘O  thou  clear  god,  and  patron  of  all  light, 

From  whom  each  lamp  and  shining  star  doth  borrow 
The  beauteous  influence  that  makes  him  bright, 
There  lives  a son  that  suck’d  an  earthly  mother, 
May  lend  thee  light,  as  thou  dost  lend  to  other.’ 

This  said,  she  hasteth  to  a myrtle  grove, 

Musing  the  morning  is  so  much  o’erworn, 

And  yet  she  hears  no  tidings  of  her  love : 

She  hearkens  for  his  hounds  and  for  his  horn  ; 

Anon  she  hears  them  chant  it  lustily, 

And  all  in  haste  she  coasteth  to  the  cry. 

And  as  she  runs,  the  bushes  in  the  way 
Some  catch  her  by  the  neck,  some  kiss  her  face, 
Some  twine  about  her  thigh  to  make  her  stay ; 

She  wildly  breaketh  from  their  strict  embrace, 

Like  a milch  doe,  whose  swelling  dugs  do  ache, 
'Hasting  to  feed  her  fawn  hid  in  some  brake. 


By  this,  she  hears  the  hounds  are  at  a bay ; 
Whereat  she  starts,  like  one  that  spies  an  adder 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


7* 


Even  so  the  timorous  yelping  of  the  hounds 
Appals  her  senses  and  her  spirit  confounds. 

For  now  she  knows  it  is  no  gentle  chase, 

But  the  blunt  boar,  rough  bear,  or  lion  proud, 

Because  the  cry  remaineth  in  one  place, 

Where  fearfully  the  dogs  exclaim  aloud  ; 

Finding  their  enemy  to  be  so  curst, 

They  all  strain  courtesy  who  shall  cope  him  first. 

This  dismal  cry  rings  sadly  in  her  ear, 

Through  which  it  enters  to  surprise  her  heart,  89c 

Who,  overcome  by  doubt  and  bloodless  fear, 

With  cold-pale  weakness  numbs  each  feeling  part ; 

Like  soldiers,  when  their  captain  once  doth  yield, 
They  basely  fly  and  dare  not  stay  the  field. 

Thus  stands  she  in  a trembling  ecstasy, 

Till,  cheering  up  her  senses  all  dismay’d, 

She  tells  them  ’t  is  a causeless  fantasy, 

And  childish  error,  that  they  are  afraid; 

Bids  them  leave  quaking,  bids  them  fear  no  more : — 
And  with  that  word  she  spied  the  hunted  boar,  900 

Whose  frothy  mouth,  bepainted  all  with  red, 

Like  milk  and  blood  being  mingled  both  together, 

A second  fear  through  all  her  sinews  spread, 

Which  madly  hurries  her  she  knows  not  whither : 

This  way  she  runs,  and  now  she  will  no  further, 

But  back  retires  to  rate  the  boar  for  murther. 

A thousand  spleens  bear  her  a thousand  ways ; 

She  treads  the  path  that  she  untreads  again ; 

Her  more  than  haste  is  mated  with  delays, 

Like^ihe  proceedings  of  a drunken  brain,  910 

Full  of  respects,  yet  nought  at  all  respecting, 

In  hand  with  all  things,  nought  at  all  effecting. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


Here  kennell’d  in  a brake  she  finds  a hound, 

And  asks  the  weary  caitiff  for  his  master, 

And  there  another  licking  of  his  wound, 

’Gainst  venom’d  sores  the  only  sovereign  plaster; 

And  here  she  meets  another  sadly  scowling, 

To  whom  she  speaks,  and  he  replies  with  howling. 

When  he  hath  ceas'd  his  ill-resounding  noise, 

Another  flap-rnouth’d  mourner,  black  and  grim,  930 
Against  the  welkin  volleys  out  his  voice ; 

Another  and  another  answer  him, 

Clapping  their  proud  tails  to  the  ground  below, 
Shaking  their  scratch’d  ears,  bleeding  as  they  go. 

Look,  how  the  world’s  poor  people  are  amaz’d 
At  apparitions,  signs,  and  prodigies, 

Whereon  with  fearful  eyes  they  long  have  gaz’d, 
Infusing  them  with  dreadful  prophecies ; 

So  she  at  these  sad  signs  draws  up  her  breath, 

And,  sighing  it  again,  exclaims  on  Death.  930 

4 Hard-favour’d  tyrant,  ugly,  meagre,  lean, 

Hateful  divorce  of  love,’ — thus  chides  she  Death, — 

4 Grim-grinning  ghost,  earth’s  worm,  what  dost  thou  mean 
To  stifle  beauty  and  to  steal  his  breath, 

Who  when  he  liv’d,  his  breath  and  beauty  set 
Gloss  on  the  rose,  smell  to  the  violet  ? 

4 If  he  be  dead, — O no,  it  cannot  be, 

Seeing  his  beauty,  thou  shouldst  strike  at  it : — 

O yes,  it  may;  thou  hast  no  eyes  to  see, 

But  hatefully  at  random  dost  thou  hit.  9 w 

Thy  mark  is  feeble  age,  but  thy  false  dart 
Mistakes  that  aim  and  cleaves  an  infant’s  heart. 

4 Hadst  thou  but  bid  beware,  then  he  had  spoke, 

And,  hearing  him,  thy  power  had  lost  his  power. 


N^V- 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


73 


l 

\ 


ul 


The  Destinies  will  curse  thee  for  this  stroke ; 

They  bid  thee  crop  a weed,  thou  pluck’st  a flower : 

Love’s  golden  arrow  at  him  should  have  fled, 

" Death’s  ebon  dart,  to  strike  him  dead. 

‘ Dost  thou  drink  tears,  that  thou  provok’st  such  weeping? 
What  may  a heavy  groan  advantage  thee?  95° 

Why  hast  thou  cast  into  eternal  sleeping 
Those  eyes  that  taught  all  other  eyes  to  see? 

Now  Nature  cares  not  for  thy  mortal  vigour, 

Since  her  best  work  is  ruin’d  with  thy  rigour.’ 


Here  overcome,  as  one  full  of  despair, 

She  vail’d  her  eyelids,  who,  like  sluices,  stopt 
The  crystal  tide  that  from  her  two  cheeks  fair 
In  the  sweet  channel  of  her  bosom  dropt ; 

But  through  the  flood-gates  breaks  the  silver  rain, 
And  with  his  strong  course  opens  them  again.  960 

O,  how  her  eyes  and  tears  did  lend  and  borrow  ! 

Her  eyes  seen  in  the  tears,  tears  in  her  eye; 

Both  crystals,  where  they  view’d  each  other’s  sorrow, 
Sorrow  that  friendly  sighs  sought  still  to  dry; 

But  hke  a stormy  day,  now  wind,  now  rain, 

STghsTdry  her  cheeks,  tears  make  them  wet  again. 


Variable  passions  throng  her  constant  woe, 

As  striving  who  should  best  become  her  grief ; 

All  entertain’d,  each  passion  labours  so, 

That  every  present  sorrow  seemeth  chief,  970 

But  none  is  best : then  join  they  all  together, 

Like  many  clouds  consulting  for  foul  weather. 

By  this,  far  off  she  hears  some  huntsman  hollo  ; 

A nurse’s  song  ne’er  pleas’d  her  babe  so  well : 

The  dire  imagination  she  did  follow 
This  sound  of  hope  doth  labour  to  expel ; 


74 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


For  now  reviving  joy  bids  her  rejoice, 

And  flatters  her  it  is  Adonis’  voice. 

Whereat  her  tears  began  to  turn  their  tide, 

Being  prison’d  in  her  eye  like  pearls  in  glass  ; 9S0 

Yet  sometimes  falls  an  orient  drop  beside, 

Which  her  cheek  melts,  as  scorning  it  should  pass, 

To  wash  the  foul  face  of  the  sluttish  ground, 

Who  is  but  drunken  when  she  seemeth  drown’d. 

C~0  hard-believing  love,  how  strange  it  seems 
4 • T j\  Not  to  believe,  and  yet  too  credulous  ! 

Thy  weal  and  woe  are  both  of  them  extremes ; 

Despair  and  hope  makes  thee  ridiculous  : 

The  one  doth  flatter  thee  in  thoughts  unlikely, 

In  likely  thoughts  the  other  kills  thee  quickly.  990 

Now  she  unweaves  the  web  that  she  hath  wrought ; 
Adonis  lives,  and  Death  is  not  to  blame ; 

It  was  not  she  that  call’d  him  all  to  naught  : 

Now  she  adds  honours  to  his  hateful  name  ; 

She  clepes  him  king  of  graves  and  grave  for  kings, 
Imperious  supreme  of  all  mortal  things. 

‘ No,  no,’  quoth  she, c sweet  Death,  I did  but  jest ; 

Yet  pardon  me  I felt  a kind  of  fear 
Whenas  I met  the  boar,  that  bloody  beast, 

Which  knows  no  pity,  but  is  still  severe  * T.OOO 

Then,  gentle  shadow, — truth  I must  confess, - 
I rail’d  on  thee,  fearing  my  love’s  decease. 

‘ T is  not  my  fault ; the  boar  provok’d  my  tongue  : 

Be  wreak’d  on  him,  invisible  commander; 

T is  he,  foul  creature,  that  hath  done  thee  wrong ; 

I did  but  act,  he ’s  author  of  thy  slander: 

Grief  hath  two  tongues,  and  never  woman  yet 
Could  rule  them  both  without  ten  women’s  wit.1 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 

Thus  hoping  that  Adonis  is  alive, 

Her  rash  suspect  she  doth  extenuate ; 

And  that  his  beauty  may  the  better  thrive, 

With  Death  she  humbly  doth  insinuate; 

Tells  him  of  trophies,  statues,  tombs,  and  stories 
His  victories,  his  triumphs,  and  his  glories. 

(0  Jove/  quoth  she,  ‘how  much  a fool  was  I 
To  be  of  such  a weak  and  silly  mind 
To  wail  his  death  who  lives  and  must  not  die 
Till  mutual  overthrow  of  mortal  kind ! 

For  he  being  dead,  with  him  is  beauty  slain, 

And,  beauty  dead,  black  chaos  comes  again. 

‘Fie,  fie,  fond  love,  thou  art  so  full  of  fear 
As  one  with  treasure  laden,  hemm’d  with  thieves  ; 
Trifles,  unwitnessed  with  eye  or  ear, 

Thy  coward  heart  with  false  bethinking  grieves.' 
Even  at  this  word  she  hears  a merry  horn, 
Whereat  she  leaps  that  was  but  late  forlorn. 

As  falcon  to  the  lure,  away  she  flies — 

The  grass  stoops  not,  she  treads  on  it  so  light — - 

And  in  her  haste  unfortunately  spies 

The  foul  boar’s  conquest  on  her  fair  delight ; 

Which  seen,  her  eyes,  as  murther’d  with  the  view. 
Like  stars  asham’d  of  day,  themselves  withdrew; 

yOr,  as  the  snail,  whose  tender  horns  being  hit, 
Shrinks  backward  in  his  shelly  cave  with  pain, 

And  there,  all  smother’d  up,  in  shade  doth  sit, 

Long  after  fearing  to  creep  forth  again  ; 

So,  at  his  bloody  view,  her  eyes  are  fled 
Into  the  deep-dark  cabins  of  her  head, 

Where  they  resign  their  office  and  their  light 
To  the  disposing  of  her  troubled  brain  ; 


75 


IO 


1020 


IO30 


IO4O 


Who  bids  them  still  consort  with  ugly  night, 

And  never  wound  the  heart  with  looks  again  ; 

Who,  like  a king  perplexed  in  his  throne, 

By  their  suggestion  gives  a deadly  groan, 

Whereat  each  tributary  subject  quakes ; 

As  when  the  wind,  imprison’d  in  the  ground, 

Struggling  for  passage,  earth’s  foundation  shakes, 

Which  with  cold  terror  doth  men’s  minds  confound. 
This  mutiny  each  part  doth  so  surprise 
That  from  their  dark  beds  once  more  leap  her  eyes, 

And,  being  open’d,  threw  unwilling  light  1051 

Upon  the  wide  wound  that  the  boar  had  trench’d 
In  his  soft  flank,  whose  wonted  lily  white 
With  purple  tears  that  his  wound  wept  was  drench’d ; 

No  flower  was  nigh,  no  grass,  herb,  leaf,  or  weed, 

But  stole  his  blood  and  seem’d  with  him  to  bleed. 

This  solemn  sympathy  poor  Venus  noteth ; 

Over  one  shoulder  doth  she  hang  her  head  ; 

Dumbly  she  passions,  franticly  she  doteth  ; 

She  thinks  he  could  not  die,  he  is  not  dead  : <c6o 

Her  voice  is  stopt,  her  joints  forget  to  bow; 

Her  eyes  are  mad  that  they  have  wept  till  now. 

Upon  his  hurt  she  looks  so  steadfastly, 

That  her  sight  dazzling  makes  the  wound  seem  three ; 
And  then  she  reprehends  her  mangling  eye, 

That  makes  more  gashes  where  no  breach  should  be  : 
His  face  seems  twain,  each  several  limb  is  doubled  ; 
For  oft  the  eye  mistakes,  the  brain  being  troubled. 


‘ My  tongue  cannot  express  my  grief  for  one, 
And  yet,’  quoth  she,  ‘ behold  two  Adons  dead ! 
My  sighs  are  blown  away,  my  salt  tears  gone, 
Mine  eyes  are  turn’d  to  fire,  my  heart  to  lead : 


1070 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS . 


77 


Heavy  heart’s  lead,  melt  at  mine  eyes’  red  fire ! 

So  shall  I die  by  drops  of  hot  desire. 

‘Alas,  poor  world,  what  treasure  hast  thou  lost ! 

What  face  remains  alive  that ’s  worth  the  viewing? 
Whose  tongue  is  music  now  ? what  canst  thou  boast 
Of  things  long  since,  or  any  thing  ensuing? 

The  flowers  are  sweet,  their  colours  fresh  and  trim  ; 
But  true-sweet  beauty  liv’d  and  died  with  him.  ioSo 

‘ Bonnet  nor  veil  henceforth  no  creature  wear! 

Nor  sun  nor  wind  will  ever  strive  to  kiss  you  : ■ 

Having  no  fair  to  lose,  you  need  not  fear ; 

The  sun  doth  scorn  you  and  the  wind  doth  hiss  you : 
But  when  Adonis  liv’d,  sun  and  sharp  air 
Lurk’d  like  two  thieves,  to  rob  him  of  his  fair. 

‘And  therefore  would  he  put  his  bonnet  on, 

Under  whose  brim  the  gaudy  sun  would  peep  ; 

The  wind  would  blow  it  off  and,  being  gone, 

Play  with  his  locks  : then  would  Adonis  weep  ; 1090 

And  straight,  in  pity  of  his  tender  years, 

They  both  would  strive  who  first  should  dry  his  tears. 

«*• 

‘To  see  his  face  the  lion  walk’d  along 

Behind  some  hedge,  because  he  would  not  fear  him  ; 

To  recreate  himself  when  he  hath  sung, 

The  tiger  would  be  tame  and  gently  hear  him  ; 

If  he  had  spoke,  the  wolf  would  leave  his  prey, 

And  never  fright  the  silly  lamb  that  day. 

‘When  he  beheld  his  shadow  in  the  brook, 

The  fishes  spread  on  it  their  golden  gills  j 1 100 

When  he  was  by,  the  birds  such  pleasure  took, 

That  some  would  sing,  some  other  in  their  bills 

Would  bring  him  mulberries  and  ripe-red  cherries  ; 
He  fed  them  with  his  sight,  they  him  with  berries. 


Ur 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


4 But  this  foul,  grim,  and  urchin-snouted  boar, 

Whose  downward  eye  still  looketh  for  a grave, 

Ne’er  saw  the  beauteous  livery  that  he  wore  ; 

Witness  the  entertainment  that  he  gave: 

If  he  did  see  his  face,  why  then  I know 

He  thought  to  kiss  him,  and  hath  kill’d  him  so.  ma 

4 ’T  is  true,  ’t  is  true  ; thus  was  Adonis  slain  : 

He  ran  upon  the  boar  with  his  sharp  spear, 

Who  did  not  whet  his  teeth  at  him  again, 

But  by  a kiss  thought  to  persuade  him  there  ; 

And  nuzzling  in  his  flank,  the  loving  swine 
Sheathed  unaware  the  tusk  in  his  soft  groin. 

4 Had  I been  tooth’d  like  him,  I must  confess, 

With  kissing  him  I should  have  kill’d  him  first ; 

But  he  is  dead,  and  never  did  he  bless 
My  youth  with  his;  the  more  am  I accurst.’  1120 

With  this,  she  falleth  in  the  place  she  stood, 

And  stains  her  face  with  his  congealed  blood. 

She  looks  upon  his  lips,  and  they  are  pale  ; 

She  takes  him  by  the  hand,  and  that  is  cold ; 

She  whispers  in  his  ears  a heavy  tale, 

As  if  they  heard  the  woeful  words  she  told  ; 

She  lifts  the  coffer-lids  that  close  his  eyes, 

Where,  lo,  two  lamps  burnt  out  in  darkness  lies  ; 

Two  glasses,  where  herself  herself  beheld 
A thousand  times,  and  now  no  more  reflect ; n3 o 

Their  virtue  lost,  wherein  they  late  excell’d, 

And  every  beauty  robb’d  of  his  effect : 

4 Wonder  of  time,’  quoth  she, 4 this  is  my  spite, 

That,  thou  being  dead,  the  day  should  yet  be  light. 

_4  Since  thou  art  dead,  lo,  here  I prophesy  : 

Sorrow  on  love  hereafter  shall  attend”; 


VENUS  AND  ADOA’/S. 


79 


It  shall  be  waited  on  with  jealousy, 

Find  sweet  beginning,  but  unsavoury  end  ; 

Ne’er  settled  equally,  but  high  or  low, 

That  all  love’s  pleasure  shall  not  match  his  woe.  1140 

‘It  shall  be  fickle,  false,  and  full  of  fraud, 

Bud  and  be  blasted  in  a breathing-while  ; 

The  bottom  poison,  and  the  top  o’erstraw’d 
With  sweets  that  shall  the  truest  sight  beguile  : 

The  strongest  body  shall  it  make  most  weak, 

Strike  the  wise  dumb,  and  teach  the  fool  to  speak. 

‘ It  shall  be  sparing  and  too  full  of  riot, 

Teaching  decrepit  age  to  tread  the  measures  ; 

The  staring  ruffian  shall  it  keep  in  quiet, 

Pluck  down  the  rich,  enrich  the  poor  with  treasures  ; 

It  shall  be  raging-mad  and  silly-mild,  n5. 

Make  the  young  old,  the  old  become  a child. 

‘ It  shall  suspect  where  is  no  cause  of  fear ; 

It  shall  not  fear  where  it  should  most  mistrust ; 

It  shall  be  merciful  and  too  severe, 

And  most  deceiving  when  it  seems  most  just; 

Perverse  it  shall  be  where  it  shows  most  toward, 

Put  fear  to  valour,  courage  to  the  coward. 

‘ It  shall  be  cause  of  war  and  dire  events, 

And  set  dissension  ’twixt  the  son  and  sire ; n6o 

Subject  and  servile  to  all  discontents, 

As  dry  combustious  matter  is  to  fire  : 

Sith  in  his  prime  Death  doth  my  love  destroy, 

They  that  love  best  their  loves  shall  not  enjoy.’ 

By  this,  the  boy  that  by  her  side  lay  kill’d 
Was  melted  like  a vapour  from  her  sight, 

And  in  his  blood  that  on  the  ground  lay  spill’d, 

A purple  flower  sprung  up,  chequer’d  with  white, 


8o 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Resembling  well  his  pale  cheeks  and  the  blood  1169 
Which  in  round  drops  upon  their  whiteness  stood. 

She  bows  her  head,  the  new-sprung  flower  to  smell, 
Comparing  it  to  her  Adonis’  breath, 

And  says,  within  her  bosom  it  shall  dwell, 

Since  he  himself  is  reft  from  her  by  death  ; 

She  crops  the  stalk,  and  in  the  breach  appears 
Green-dropping  sap,  which  she  compares  to  tears. 

‘ Poor  flower,’  quoth  she,  ‘this  was  thy  fathei  s guise 
Sweet  issue  of  a more  sweet-smelling  sire — 

For  every  little  grief  to  wet  his  eyes: 

To  grow  unto  himself  was  his  desire,  1180 

And  so  -t  is  thine  ; but  know,  it  is  as  good 
To  wither  in  my  breast  as  in  his  blood.  _ 

‘ Here  was  thy  father’s  bed,  here  in  my  breast ; 

Thou  art  the  next  of  blood,  and ’t  is  thy  right : 

Lo,  in  this  hollow  cradle  take  thy  rest, 

My  throbbing  heart  shall  rock  thee  day  and  night ; 
There  shall  not  be  one  minute  in  an  hour 
Wherein  I will  not  kiss  my  sweet  love’s  flower.’ 

Thus  weary  of  the  world,  away  she  hies, 

And  yokes  her  silver  doves,  by  whose  swift  aid  1190 
Their  mistress  mounted  through  the  empty  skies 
In  her  light  chariot  quickly  is  convey’d  ; 

Holding  their  course  to  Paphos,  where  their  queen 
Means  to  immure  herself  and  not  be  seen. 


COAT  OF  ARMS  OF  THE  EARL  OF  SOUTHAMPTON. 


TO  THE 

RIGHT  HONOURABLE  HENRY  WRIOTHESLY, 

EARL  OF  SOUTHAMPTON  AND  BARON  OF  TICHFIELD. 

The  love  I dedicate  to  your  lordship  is  without  end  ; whereof  this 
pamphlet,  without  beginning,  is  but  a superfluous  moiety.  1 he  warrant 
1 have  of  your  honourable  disposition,  not  the  worth  of  my  untutored 
lines,  makes  it  assured  of  acceptance.  What  I have  done  is  yours  ; 
what  I have  to  do  is  yours  ; being  part  in  all  I have,  devoted  yours. 
Were  my  worth  greater,  my  duty  would  show  greater ; meantime,  as  it 
is,  it  is  bound  to  your  lordship,  to  whom  I wish  long  life,  still  lengthened 
with  all  happiness.  Your  lordship’s  in  all  duty, 

William  Shakespeare. 


ARDEA. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

Lucius  Tarquinius,  for  his  excessive  pride  surnamed  Superbus,  after 
he  had  caused  his  own  father-in-law  Servius  Tullius  to  be  cruelly  mur- 
thered,  and,  contrary  to  the  Roman  laws  and  customs,  not  requiring  or 
staying  for  the  people’s  suffrages,  had  possessed  himself  of  the  kingdom, 
went,  accompanied  with  his  sons  and  other  noblemen  of  Rome,  to  besiege 
Ardea.  During  which  siege  the  principal  men  of  the  army  meeting  one 
evening  at  the  tent  of  Sextus  Tarquinius,  the  king’s  son,  in  their  dis- 
courses after  supper  every  one  commended  the  virtues  of  his  own  wife  ; 
among  whom  Collatinus  extolled  the  incomparable  chastity  of  his  wife 
Lucretia.  In  that  pleasant  humour  they  all  posted  to  Rome  ; and  intend- 
ing, by  their  secret  and  sudden  arrival,  to  make  trial  of  that  which  every 
one  had  before  avouched,  only  Collatinus  finds  his  wife,  though  it  were 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


84 

late  in  the  night,  spinning  amongst  her  maids  : the  other  ladies  were  all 
found  dancing  and  revelling,  or  in  several  disports.  Whereupon  the  no- 
blemen yielded  Collatinus  the  victory,  and  his  wife  the  fame.  At  that 
time  Sextus  Tarquinius,  being  inflamed  with  Lucrece’  beauty,  yet  smoth- 
ering his  passions  for  the  present,  departed  with  the  rest  back  to  the 
camp ; from  whence  he  shortly  after  privily  withdrew  himself,  and  was, 
according  to  his  estate,  royally  entertained  and  lodged  by  Lucrece  at 
Collatium.  The  same  night  he  treacherously  stealeth  into  her  chamber, 
violently  ravished  her,  and  early  in  the  morning  speedeth  away.  Lucrece, 
in  this  lamentable  plight,  hastily  dispatcheth  messengers,  one  to  Rome  tor 
her  father,  another  to  the  camp  for  Collatme.  1 hey  came,  the  one  ac- 
companied with  Junius  Brutus,  the  other  with  Publius  Valerius,  and 
finding  Lucrece  attired  in  mourning  habit,  demanded  the  cause  of  ler 
sorrow.  She,  first  taking  an  oath  of  them  for  her  revenge,  revealed  the 
actor  and  whole  manner  of  his  dealing,  and  withal  suddenly  stabbed 
herself  Which  done,  with  one  consent  they  all  vowed  to  root  out  the 
whole  hated  family  of  the  Tarquins  ; and  bearing  the  dead  body  to  Rome, 
Brutus  acquainted  the  people  with  the  doer  and  manner  of  the  vile  deed, 
with  a bitter  invective  against  the  tyranny  of  the  king:  wherewith  the 
people  were  so  moved,  that  with  one  consent  and  a general  acclamation 
the  Tarquins  were  all  exiled,  and  the  state  government  changed  from 
kings  to  consuls. 


From  the  besieged  Ardea  all  in  post, 

Borne  by  the  trustless  wings  of  false  desire, 
Lust-breathed  Tarquin  leaves  the  Roman  host, 

And  to  Collatium  bears  the  lightless  fire 
Which,  in  pale  embers  hid,  lurks  to  aspire 
And  girdle  with  embracing  flames  the  waist 
Of  Collatine’s  fair  love,  Lucrece  the  chaste. 

Haply  that  name  of  ‘ chaste  ’ unhappily  set 
This  bateless  edge  on  his  keen  appetite ; 

When  Collatine  unwisely  did  not  let 
To  praise  the  clear  unmatched  red  and  white 
Which  triumph’d  in  that  sky  of  his  delight, 

Where  mortal  stars,  as  bright  as  heaven’s  beauties, 
With  pure  aspects  did  him  peculiar  duties. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE.  85 

For  he  the  night  before,  in  Tarquin’s  tent, 

Unlock’d  the  treasure  of  his  happy  state ; 

What  priceless  wealth  the  heavens  had  him  lent 
In  the  possession  of  his  beauteous  mate  ; 

Reckoning  his  fortune  at  such  high-proud  rate, 

That  kings  might  be  espoused  to  more  fame,  » 

But  king  nor  peer  to  such  a peerless  dame. 

O happiness  enjoy’d  but  of  a few ! 

And,  if  possess’d,  as  soon  decay’d  and  done 
As  is  the  morning’s  silver-melting  dew 
Against  the  golden  splendour  of  the  sun  ! 

An  expir’d  date,  cancell’d  ere  well  begun  ; 

Honour  and  beauty,  in  the  owner’s  arms, 

Are  weakly  fortress’d  from  a world  of  harms. 

Beauty  itself  doth  of  itself  persuade 

The  eyes  of  men  without  an  orator  ; 30 

What  needeth  then  apologies  be  made, 

To  set  forth  that  which  is  so  singular? 

Or  why  is  Collatine  the  publisher 

Of  that  rich  jewel  he  should  keep  unknown 
From  thievish  ears,  because  it  is  his  own  ? 

Perchance  his  boast  of  Lucrece’  sovereignty 
Suggested  this  proud  issue  of  a king, 

For  by  our  ears  our  hearts  oft  tainted  be ; 

Perchance  that  envy  of  so  rich  a thing, 

Braving  compare,  disdainfully  did  sting  40 

His  high-pitch’d  thoughts,  that  meaner  men  should 
vaunt 

That  golden  hap  which  their  superiors  want. 

But  sdme  untimely  thought  did  instigate 
His  dll-too-timeless  gpeed,  if  i^t/ne  of  fhose  ; 

His  bonqj^iis  afifdirs,  his  friends,  his  state, 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


Neglected  all,  with  swift  intent  he  goes 
To  quench  the  coal  which  in  his  liver  glows. 

O rash  false  heat,  wrapp’d  in  repentant  cold, 

Thy  hasty  spring  still  blasts,  and  ne’er  grows  old  ! 

When  at  Collatium  this  false  lord  arriv’d,  50 

Well  was  he  welcom’d  by  the  Roman  dame, 

Within  whose  face  beauty  and  virtue  striv’d 
Which  of  them  both  should  underprop  her  fame  : 

When  virtue  bragg’d,  beauty  would  blush  for  shame ; 
When  beauty  boasted  blushes,  in  despite 
Virtue  would  stain  that  o’er  with  silver  white. 


But  beauty,  in  that  white  intituled, 

From  Venus’  doves  doth  challenge  that  fair  field  : 

Then  virtue  claims  from  beauty  beauty’s  red, 

Which  virtue  gave  the  golden  age  to  gild  60 

Their  silver  cheeks,  and  call’d  it  then  their  shield  ; 
Teaching  them  thus  to  use  it  in  the  fight, — 

When  shame  assail’d,  the  red  should  fence  the  white. 

This  heraldry  in  Lucrece’  face  was  seen, 

Argued  by  beauty’s  red  and  virtue’s  white  : 

Of  either’s  colour  was  the  other  queen, 

Proving  from  world’s  minority  their  right; 

Yet  their  ambition  makes  them  still  to  fight, 

The  sovereignty  of  either  being  so  great, 

That  oft  they  interchange  each  other’s  seat.  70 


This  silent  war  of  lilies  and  of  roses, 

Which  Tarquin  view’d  in  her  fair  face’s  field, 

In  their  pure  ranks  his  traitor  eye  encloses ; 
Where,  lest  between  them  both  it  should  be  kill’d, 
The  coward  captive  vanquished  doth  yield 
To  those  two  armies  that  would  let  him  go, 
Rather  than  triumph  in  so  false  a fo 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE C£ . 


87 


Now  thinks  he  that  her  husband’s  shallow  tongue,— 

The  niggard  prodigal  that  prais’d  her  so, — 

In  that  high  task  hath  done  her  beauty  wrong,  80 

Which  far  exceeds  his  barren  skill  to  show  ; 

Therefore  that  praise  which  Collatine  doth  owe 
Enchanted  Tarquin  answers  with  surmise, 

In  silent  wonder  of  still-gazing  eyes. 

This  earthly  saint,  adored  by  this  devil, 

Little  suspecteth  the  false  worshipper ; 

For  unstain’d  thoughts  do  seldom  dream  on  evil ; 

Birds  never  lim’d  no  secret  bushes  fear: 

So  guiltless  she  securely  gives  good  cheer 

And  reverend  welcome  to  her  princely  guest,  90 

Whose  inward  ill  no  outward  harm  express  d : 

For  that  he  colour’d  with  his  high  estate, 

Hiding  base  sin  in  plaits  of  majesty; 

That  nothing  in  him  seem’d  inordinate, 

Save  sometime  too  much  wonder  of  his  eye, 

Which,  having  all,  all  could  not  satisfy ; 

But,  poorly  rich,  so  wanteth  in  his  store, 

That,  cloy’d  with  much,  he  pineth  still  for  more. 

But  she,  that  never  cop’d  with  stranger  eyes, 

Could  pick  no  meaning  from  their  parling  looks,  100 
Nor  read  the  subtle-shining  secrecies 
Writ  in  the  glassy  margents  of  such  books  : 

She  touch’d  no  unknown  baits,  nor  fear’d  no  hooks  ; 
Nor  could  she  moralize  his  wanton  sight, 

More  than  his  eyes  were  open’d  to  the  light. 

He  stories  to  her  ears  her  husband’s  fame,  ✓ 

Won  in  the  fields  of  fruitful  Italy, 

And  decks  with  praises  Collatine’s  high  name, 


88 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Made  glorious  by  his  manly  chivalry 
With  bruised  arms  and  wreaths  of  victory;  ,30 

Her  joytwith  heav’d-up  hand  she  doth  express. 

And,  wordless,  so  greets  heaven  for  his  success. 

Far  from  the  purpose  of  his  coming  hither, 

He  makes  excuses  for  his  being  there  : 

No  cloudy  show  of  stormy  blustering  weather 
Doth  yet  in  his  fair  welkin  once  appear; 

Till  sable  Night,  mother  of  dread  and  fear, 

Upon  the  world  dim  darkness  doth  display, 

And  in  her  vaulty  prison  stows  the  day. 

For  then  is  Tarquin  brought  unto  his  bed,  I2Q 

Intending  weariness  with  heavy  spright; 

For,  after  supper,  long  he  questioned 

With  modest  Lucrece,  and  wore  out  the  nis;ht: 

Now  leaden  slumber  with  life’s  strength  doth  fight. 

And  every  one  to  rest  themselves  betake, 

Save  thieves,  and  cares,  and  troubled  minds,  that  wake. 

As  one  of  which  doth  Tarquin  lie  revolving 
The  sundry  dangers  of  his  will’s  obtaining, 

Yet  ever  to  obtain  his  will  resolving, 

Though  weak-built  hopes  persuade  him  to  abstaining; 
Despair  to  gain  doth  traffic  oft  for  gaining,  i3, 

And  when  great  treasure  is  the  meed  propos’d, 

1 hough  death  be  adjunct,  there ’s  no  death  suppos’d. 

Those  that  much  covet  are  with  gain  so  fond, 

For  what  they  have  not,  that  which  they  possess 
They  scatter  and  unloose  it  from  their  bond, 

And  so,  by  hoping  more,  they  have  but  less; 

Or,  gaining  more,  the  profit  of  excess 
Is  but  to  surfeit,  and  such  griefs  sustain, 

I hat  they  prove  bankrupt  in  this  poor-rich  gain,  mo 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE. 


89 

The  aim  of  all  is  but  to  nurse  the  life 
With  honour,  wealth,  and  ease,  in  waning  age  ; 

And  in  this  aim  there  is  such  thwarting  strife, 

That  one  for  all  or  all  for  one  we  gage, 

As  life  for  honour  in  fell  battle’s  rage, 

Honour  for  wealth  ; and  oft  that  wealth  doth  cost 
The  death  of  all,  and  all  together  lost. 

So  that  in  venturing  ill  we  leave  to  be 
The  things  we  are  for  that  which  we  expect ; 

And  this  ambitious  foul  infirmity,  *5° 

In  having  much,  torments  us  with  defect 
Of  that  we  have : so  then  we  do  neglect 

The  thing  we  have  ; and,  all  for  want  of  wit, 

Make  something  nothing  by  augmenting  it. 

Such  hazard  now  must  doting  Tarquin  make, 

Pawning  his  honour  to  obtain  his  lust, 

And  for  himself  himself  he  must  forsake  ; 

Then  where  is  truth,  if  there  be  no  self-trust? 

When  shall  he  think  to  find  a stranger  just, 

When  he  himself  himself  confounds,  betrays  160 

To  slanderous  tongues  and  wretched  hateful  days? 

Now  stole  upon  the  time  the  dead  of  night, 

When  heavy  sleep  had  clos’d  up  mortal  eyes: 

No  comfortable  star  did  lend  his  light, 

No  noise  but  owls’  and  wolves’  death-boding  cries; 

Now  serves  the  season  that  they  may  surprise 

The  silly  lambs  : pure  thoughts  are  dead  and  still, 
While  lust  and  murther  wakes  to  stain  and  kill. 

And  now  this  lustful  lord  leap’d  from  his  bed, 

Throwing  his  mantle  rudely  o’er  his  arm;  170 

Is  madly  toss’d  between  desire  and  dread  : 

Th’  one  sweetly  flatters,  th’  other  feareth  harm  ; 

But  honest  fear,  bewitch’d  with  lust’s  foul  charm, 


9° 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Doth  too  too  oft  betake  him  to  retire, 

Beaten  away  by  brain-sick  rude  desire. 

His  falchion  on  a flint  he  softly  smiteth, 

That  from  the  cold  stone  sparks  of  fire  do  fly ; 

Whereat  a waxen  torch  forthwith  he  lighteth, 

Which  must  be  lode-star  to  his  lustful  eye, 

And  to  the  flame  thus  speaks  advisedly,  180 

4 As  from  this  cold  flint  I enforc’d  this  fire. 

So  Lucrece  must  I force  to  my  desire.’ 

Here  pale  with  fear  he  doth  premeditate 
The  dangers  of  his  loathsome  enterprise, 

And  in  his  inward  mind  he  doth  debate 
What  following  sorrow  may  on  this  arise ; 

Then  looking  scornfully,  he  doth  despise 
His  naked  armour  of  still-slaughter’d  lust, 

And  justly  thus  controls  his  thoughts  unjust: 

4 Fair  torch,  burn  out  thy  light,  and  lend  it  not  190 

To  darken  her  whose  light  excelleth  thine  ; 

And  die,  unhallow’d  thoughts,  before  you  blot 
With  your  uncleanness  that  which  is  divine ; 

Offer  pure  incense  to  so  pure  a shrine  : 

Let  fair  humanity  abhor  the  deed 

That  spots  and  stains  love’s  modest  snow-white  weed. 

‘O  shame  to  knighthood  and  to  shining  arms! 

O foul  dishonour  to  my  household’s  grave  ! 

O impious  act,  including  all  foul  harms ! 

A martial  man  to  be  soft  fancy’s  slave  ! 200 

True  valour  still  a true  respect  should  have ; 

Then  my  digression  is  so  vile,  so  base, 

That  it  will  live  engraven  in  my  face. 

4 Yea,  though  I die,  the  scandal  will  survive, 

And  be  an  eye-sore  in  my  golden  coat ; 

Some  loathsome  dash  the  herald  will  contrive, 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


91 

To  cipher  me  how  fondly  I did  dote  ; 

That  my  posterity,  sham’d  with  the  note, 

Shall  curse  my  bones,  and  hold  it  for  no  sin 
To  wish  that  I their  father  had  not  been.  210 

‘ What  win  I,  if  I gain  the  thing  I seek  ? 

A dream,  a breath,  a froth  of  fleeting  joy. 

Who  buys  a minute’s  mirth  to  wail  a week, 

Or  sells  eternity  to  get  a toy  ? 

For  one  sweet  grape  who  will  the  vine  destroy? 

Or  what  fond  beggar,  but  to  touch  the  crown, 

Would  with  the  sceptre  straight  be  strucken  down  ? 

‘If  Collatinus  dream  of  my  intent, 

Will  he  not  wake,  and  in  a desperate  rage 

Post  hither,  this  vile  purpose  to  prevent?  22< 

This  siege  that  hath  engirt  his  marriage, 

This  blur  to  youth,  this  sorrow  to  the  sage, 

This  dying  virtue,  this  surviving  shame, 

Whose  crime  will  bear  an  ever-during  blame? 

< O,  what  excuse  can  my  invention  make, 

When  thou  shall  charge  me  with  so  black  a deed  ? 

Will  not  my  tongue  be  mute,  my  frail  joints  shake, 
Mine  eyes  forego  their  light,  my  false  heart  bleed  ? 

The  guilt  being  great,  the  fear  doth  still  exceed  ; 

And  extreme  fear  can  neither  fight  nor  fly,  23 

But  coward-like  with  trembling  terror  die. 

‘ Had  Collatinus  kill’d  my  son  or  sire, 

Or  lain  in  ambush  to  betray  my  life, 

Or  were  he  not  my  dear  friend,  this  desire 
Might  have  excuse  to  work  upon  his  wife, 

As  in  revenge  or  quittal  of  such  strife  ; 

But  as  he  is  my  kinsman,  my  dear  friend, 

The  shame  and  fault  finds  no  excuse  nor  end. 


92 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


‘ Shameful  it  is  ; ay,  if  the  fact  be  known  : 

Hateful  it  is  ; there  is  no  hate  in  loving:  240 

I ’ll  beg  her  love  ; but  she  is  not  her  own  : 

The  worst  is  but  denial  and  reproving; 

My  will  is  strong,  past  reason’s  weak  removing. 

Who  fears  a sentence  or  an  old  man’s  saw 
Shall  by  a painted  cloth  be  kept  in  awe.’ 

Thus,  graceless,  holds  he  disputation 
’Tween  frozen  conscience  and  hot-burning  will, 

And  with  good  thoughts  makes  dispensation, 

Urging  the  worser  sense  for  vantage  still  ; 

Which  in  a moment  doth  confound  and  kill  250 

All  pure  effects,  and  doth  so  far  proceed, 

That  what  is  vile  shows  like  a virtuous  deed. 

Quoth  he, 4 She  took  me  kindly  by  the  hand, 

And  gaz’d  for  tidings  in  my  eager  eyes, 

Fearing  some  hard  news  from  the  warlike  band, 

Where  her  beloved  Collatinus  lies. 

O,  how  her  fear  did  make  her  colour  rise  ! 

First  red  as  roses  that  on  lawn  we  lay. 

Then  white  as  lawn,  the  roses  took  away. 

4 And  how  her  hand,  in  my  hand  being  lock’d,  260 

Forc’d  it  to  tremble  with  her  loyal  fear ! 

Which  struck  her  sad,  and  then  it  faster  rock’d, 

Until  her  husband’s  welfare  she  did  hear ; 

Whereat  she  smiled  with  so  sweet  a cheer, 

That  had  Narcissus  seen  her  as  she  stood, 

Self-love  had  never  drown’d  him  in  the  flood. 

‘ Why  hunt  I then  for  colour  or  excuses? 

All  orators  are  dumb  when  beauty  pleadeth  ; 

Poor  wretches  have  remorse  in  poor  abuses  ; 269 

Love  thrives  not  in  the  heart  that  shadows  dreadeth ; 
Affection  is  my  captain,  and  he  leadeth ; 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE . 


93 


And  when  his  gaudy  banner  is  display’d, 

The  coward  fights  and  will  not  be  dismay’d. 

‘Then,  childish  fear  avaunt ! debating  die  ! 

Respect  and  reason  wait  on  wrinkled  age ! 

My  heart  shall  never  countermand  mine  eye  : 

Sad  pause  and  deep  regard  beseems  the  sage ; 

My  part  is  youth,  and  beats  these  from  the  stage  : 

Desire  my  pilot  is,  beauty  my  prize  ; 

Then  who  fears  sinking  where  such  treasure  lies  ?’  280 

As  corn  o’ergrown  by  weeds,  so  heedful  fear 
Is  almost  chok’d  by  unresisted  lust. 

Away  he  steals  with  open  listening  ear, 

Full  of  foul  hope  and  full  of  fond  mistrust ; 

Both  which,  as  servitors  to  the  unjust, 

So  cross  him  with  their  opposite  persuasion, 

That  now  he  vows  a league,  and  now  invasion. 

Within  his  thought  her  heavenly  image  sits, 

And  in  the  self-same  seat  sits  Collatine  : 

That  eye  which  looks  on  her  confounds  his  wits  ; 290 

That  eye  which  him  beholds,  as  more  divine, 

Unto  a view  so  false  will  not  incline, 

But  with  a pure  appeal  seeks  to  the  heart, 

Which  once  corrupted  takes  the  worser  part ; 

And  therein  heartens  up  his  servile  powers, 

Who,  flatter’d  by  their  leader’s  jocund  show, 

Stuff  up  his  lust,  as  minutes  fill  up  hours  ; 

And  as  their  captain,  so  their  pride  doth  grow, 

Paying  more  slavish  tribute  than  they  owe. 

By  reprobate  desire  thus  madly  led,  300 

The  Roman  lord  marcheth  to  Lucrece’  bed. 

The  locks  between  her  chamber  and  his  will, 

Each  one  by  him  enforc’d,  retires  his  ward  ; 

But,  as  they  open,  they  all  rate  his  ill, 


94 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Which  drives  the  creeping  thief  to  some  regard  : 

The  threshold  grates  the  door  to  have  him  heard  ; 
Night-wandering  weasels  shriek  to  see  him  there  ; 
They  fright  him,  yet  he  still  pursues  his  fear. 

As  each  unwilling  portal  yields  him  way, 

Through  little  vents  and  crannies  of  the  place  3i< 

The  wind  wars  with  his  torch  to  make  him  stay, 

And  blows  the  smoke  of  it  into  his  face, 

Extinguishing  his  conduct  in  this  case  ; 

But  his  hot  heart,  which  fond  desire  doth  scorch, 
Puffs  forth  another  wind  that  fires  the  torch : 

And  being  lighted,  by  the  light  he  spies 
Lucretia’s  glove,  wherein  her  needle  sticks : 

He  takes  it  from  the  rushes  where  it  lies, 

And  griping  it,  the  needle  his  finger  pricks  ; 

As  who  should  say  ‘This  glove  to  wanton  tricks  310 
Is  not  inur’d  ; return  again  in  haste  ; 

Thou  see’st  our  mistress’  ornaments  are  chaste.’ 

But  all  these  poor  forbiddings  could  not  stay  him  ; 

He  in  the  worst  sense  construes  their  denial  : 

The  doors,  the  wind,  the  glove,  that  did  delay  him, 

He  takes  for  accidental  things  of  trial  ; 

Or  as  those  bars  which  stop  the  hourly  dial, 

Who  with  a lingering  stay  his  course  doth  let, 

Till  every  minute  pays  the  hour  his  debt. 

‘ So,  so,’  quoth  he,  ‘ these  lets  attend  the  time,  330 

Like  little  frosts  that  sometime  threat  the  spring, 

To  add  a more  rejoicing  to  the  prime, 

And  give  the  sneaped  birds  more  cause  to  sing. 

Pain  pays  the  income  of  each  precious  thing; 

Huge  rocks,  high  winds,  strong  pirates,  shelves  and 
sands, 

The  merchant  fears,  ere  rich  at  home  he  lands.’ 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 

Now  is  he  come  unto  the  chamber-door, 

That  shuts  him  from  the  heaven  of  his  thought, 
Which  with  a yielding  latch,  and  with  no  more, 

Hath  barr’d  him  from  the  blessed  thing  he  sought. 
So  from  himself  impiety  hath  wrought, 

That  for  his  prey  to  pray  he  doth  begin, 

As  if  the  heavens  should  countenance  his  sin. 

But  in  the  midst  of  his  unfruitful  prayer, 

Having  solicited  the  eternal  power 

That  his  foul  thoughts  might  compass  his  fair  fair, 

And  they  would  stand  auspicious  to  the  hour, 

Even  there  he  starts  : quoth  he,  ‘ I must  deflower; 
The  powers  to  whom  I pray  abhor  this  fact, 

How  can  they  then  assist  me  in  the  act? 

4 Then  Love  and  Fortune  be  my  gods,  my  guide  ! 
My  will  is  back’d  with  resolution  : 

Thoughts  are  but  dreams  till  their  effects  be  tried  ; 
The  blackest  sin  is  clear’d  with  absolution  ; 

Against  love’s  fire  fear’s  frost  hath  dissolution. 

The  eye  of  heaven  is  out,  and  misty  night 
Covers  the  shame  that  follows  sweet  delight.’ 

This  said,  his  guilty  hand  pluck’d  up  the  latch, 

And  with  his  knee  the  door  he  opens  wide. 

The  dove  sleeps  fast  that  this  night-owl  will  catch  ; 
Thus  treason  works  ere  traitors  be  espied. 

Who  sees  the  lurking  serpent  steps  aside; 

But  she,  sound  sleeping,  fearing  no  such  thing, 
Lies  at  the  mercy  of  his  mortal  sting. 

Into  the  chamber  wickedly  he  stalks, 

And  gazeth  on  her  yet  unstained  bed. 

The  curtains  being  close,  about  he  walks, 

Rolling  his  greedy  eyeballs  in  his  head  ; 

By  their  high  treason  is  his  heart  misled, 


95 

340 

350 

360 


96 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Which  gives  the  watchword  to  his  hand  full  soon 
To  draw  the  cloud  that  hides  the  silver  moon.  37i 

Look,  as  the  fair  and  fiery-pointed  sun, 

Rushing  from  forth  a cloud,  bereaves  our  sight, 

Even  so,  the  curtain  drawn,  his  eyes  begun 
To  wink,  being  blinded  with  a greater  light; 

Whether  it  is  that  she  reflects  so  bright, 

That  dazzleth  them,  or  else  some  shame  suppos’d, 
But  blind  they  are,  and  keep  themselves  enclos’d. 

O,  had  they  in  that  darksome  prison  died  ! 

Then  had  they  seen  the  period  of  their  ill ; 38o 

Then  Collatine  again,  by  Lucrece’  side, 

In  his  clear  bed  might  have  reposed  still; 

But  they  must  ope,  this  blessed  league  to  kill, 

And  holy-thoughted  Lucrece  to  their  sight 
Must  sell  her  joy,  her  life,  her  world’s  delight. 

Her  lily  hand  her  rosy  cheek  lies  under, 

Cozening  the  pillow  of  a lawful  kiss, 

Who,  therefore  angry,  seems  to  part  in  sunder, 

Swelling  on  either  side  to  want  his  bliss; 

Between  whose  hills  her  head  entombed  is,  39o 

Where,  like  a virtuous  monument,  she  lies, 

To  be  admir’d  of  lewd  unhallow’d  eyes. 

Without  the  bed  her  other  fair  hand  was, 

On  the  green  coverlet,  whose  perfect  white 
Show’d  like  an  April  daisy  on  the  grass, 

With  pearly  sweat,  resembling  dew  of  night. 

Her  eyes,  like  marigolds,  had  sheath’d  their  light, 

And  canopied  in  darkness  sweetly  lay, 

Till  they  might  open  to  adorn  the  day. 

Her  hair,  like  golden  threads,  play’d  with  her  breath  ; 

O modest  wantons!  wanton  modesty  ! 401 

Showing  life’s  triumph  in  the  map  of  death, 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


97 


And  death’s  dim  look  in  life’s  mortality; 

Each  in  her  sleep  themselves  so  beautify, 

As  if  between  them  tw'ain  there  were  no  strife, 

But  that  life  liv’d  in  death,  and  death  in  life. 

Her  breasts,  like  ivory  globes  circled  with  blue, 

A pair  of  maiden  worlds  unconquered, 

Save  of  their  lord  no  bearing  yoke  they  knew, 

And  him  by  oath  they  truly  honoured 
These  worlds  in  Tarquin  new  ambition  bred, 

Who,  like  a foul  usurper,  went  about 

From  this  fair  throne  to  heave  the  owner  out. 

What  could  he  see  but  mightily  he  noted  ? 

What  did  he  note  but  strongly  he  desir’d? 

What  he  beheld,  on  that  he  firmly  doted, 

And  in  his  will  his  wilful  eye  he  tir’d. 

With  more  than  admiration  he  admir’d 
Her  azure  veins,  her  alabaster  skin, 

Her  coral  lips,  her  snow-white  dimpled  chin.  420 

As  the  grim  lion  fawneth  o’er  his  prey, 

Sharp  hunger  by  the  conquest  satisfied, 

So  o’er  this  sleeping  soul  doth  Tarquin  stay, 

His  rage  of  lust  by  gazing  qualified ; 

Slack’d,  not  suppress’d,  for  standing  by  her  side, 

His  eye,  which  late  this  mutiny  restrains, 

Unto  a greater  uproar  tempts  his  veins: 

And  they,  like  straggling  slaves  for  pillage  fighting, 
Obdurate  vassals  fell  exploits  effecting, 

In  bloody  death  and  ravishment  delighting,  430 

Nor  children’s  tears  nor  mothers’  groans  respecting, 
Swell  in  their  pride,  the  on^fet  still  expecting ; 

Anon  his  beating  heart,  alarum  striking, 

Gives  the  hot  charge  and  bids  them  do  their  liking. 
G 


■ ^h»i% 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


This  moves  in  him  more  rage  and  lesser  pity, 

To  make  the  breach  and  enter  this  sweet  city. 

First,  like  a trumpet,  doth  his  tongue  begin 
To  sound  a parley  to  his  heartless  foe, 

Who  o’er  the  white  sheet  peers  her  whiter  chin, 

The  reason  of  this  rash  alarm  to  know, 

Which  he  by  dumb  demeanour  seeks  to  show; 

But  she  with  vehement  prayers  urgeth  still 
Under  what  colour  he  commits  this  ill. 

Thus  he  replies:  ‘The  colour  in  thy  face, 

That  even  for  anger  makes  the  lily  pale, 

And  the  red  rose  blush  at  her  own  disgrace, 

Shall  plead  for  me  and  tell  my  loving  tale; 

Under  that  colour  am  I come  to  scale 

Thy  never-conquer’d  fort : the  fault  is  thine, 

For  those  thine  eyes  betray  thee  unto  mine. 

4 Thus  I forestall  thee,  if  thou  mean  to  chide  : 

Thy  beauty  hath  ensnar’d  thee  to  this  night, 

Where  thou  with  patience  must  my  will  abide  ; 

My  will  that  marks  thee  for  my  earth’s  delight, 
Which  I to  conquer  sought  with  all  my  might, 

But  as  reproof  and  reason  beat  it  dead, 

By  thy  bright  beauty  was  it  newly  bred. 

‘ I see  what  crosses  my  attempt  will  bring ; 

I know  what  thorns  the  growing  rose  defends; 

I think  the  honey  guarded  with  a sting; 

All  this  beforehand  counsel  comprehends  : 

But  will  is  deaf  and  hears  no  heedful  friends ; 

Only  he  hath  an  eye  to  gaze  on  beauty, 

And  dotes  on  what  he  looks,  ’gainst  law  or  duty. 

4 1 have  debated,  even  in  my  soul, 

What  wrong,  what  shame,  what  sorrow  I shall  breed 
But  nothing  can  affection’s  course  control, 


IOO 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Or  stop  the  headlong  fury  of  his  speed. 

I know  repentant  tears  ensue  the  deed, 

Reproach,  disdain,  and  deadly  enmity; 

Yet  strive  I to  embrace  mine  infamy.’ 

This  said,  he  shakes  aloft  his  Roman  blade, 

Which,  like  a falcon  towering  in  the  skies, 

Coucheth  the  fowl  below  with  his  wings’  shade, 

Whose  crooked  beak  threats  if  he  mount  he  dies; 

So  under  his  insulting  falchion  lies 

Harmless  Lucretia,  marking  what  he  tells  s«o 

With  trembling  fear,  as  fowl  hear  falcon’s  bells. 

‘Lucrece,’  quoth  he, 4 this  night  I must  enjoy  thee ; 

If  thou  deny,  then  force  must  work  my  way, 

For  in  thy  bed  I purpose  to  destroy  thee  : 

That  done,  some  worthless  slave  of  thine  I ’ll  slay, 

To  kill  thine  honour  with  thy  life’s  decay  ; 

And  in  thy  dead  arms  do  I mean  to  place  him, 
Swearing  I slew  him,  seeing  thee  embrace  him. 

4 So  thy  surviving  husband  shall  remain 

The  scornful  mark  of  every  open  eye  ; 52° 

Thy  kinsmen  hang  their  heads  at  this  disdain, 

Thy  issue  blurr’d  with  nameless  bastardy : 

And  thou,  the  author  of  their  obloquy, 

Shalt  have  thy  trespass  cited  up  in  rhymes, 

And  sung  by  children  in  succeeding  times. 

‘But  if  thou  yield,  I rest  thy  secret  friend: 

The  fault  unknown  is  as  a thought  unacted; 

A little  harm  done  to  a great  good  end 
For  lawful  policy  remains  enacted. 

The  poisonous  simple  sometimes  is  compacted  530 

In  a pure  compound;  being  so  applied, 

His  venom  in  effect  is  purified. 


THE  RAPE  OE  LUCRECE. 


IOI 


‘Then,  for  thy  husband  and  thy  children’s  sake, 

Tender  my  suit:  bequeath  not  to  their  lot 
The  shame  that  from  them  no  device  can  take, 

The  blemish  that  will  never  be  forgot, 

Worse  than  a slavish  wipe  or  birth-hour’s  blot ; 

For  marks  descried  in  men’s  nativity 
Are  nature’s  faults,  not  their  own  infamy.’ 

Here  with  a cockatrice’  dead-killing  eye  540 

He  rouseth  up  himself  and  makes  a pause  ; 

While  she,  the  picture  of  pure  piety, 

Like  a white  hind  under  the  gripe’s  sharp  claws, 
Pleads,  in  a wilderness  where  are  no  laws, 

To  the  rough  beast  that  knows  no  gentle  right, 

Nor  aught  obeys  but  his  foul  appetite. 

But  when  a black-fac’d  cloud  the  world  doth  threat, 

In  his  dim  mist  the  aspiring  mountains  hiding, 

From  earth’s  dark  womb  some  gentle  gust  doth  get, 
Which  blows  these  pitchy  vapours  from  their  biding, 
Hindering  their  present  fall  by  this  dividing ; .551 

So  his  unhallow’d  haste  her  words  delays, 

And  moody  Pluto  winks  while  Orpheus  plays. 

Yet,  foul  night-waking  cat,  he  doth  but  dally, 

While  in  his  hold-fast  foot  the  weak  mouse  panteth : 
Her  sad  behaviour  feeds  his  vulture  folly, 

A swallowing  gulf  that  even  in  plenty  wanteth; 

His  ear  her  prayers  admits,  but  his  heart  granteth 
No  penetrable  entrance  to  her  plaining: 

Tears  harden  lust,  though  marble  wear  with  raining. 

Her  pity-pleading  eyes  are  sadly  fix’d  561 

In  the  remorseless  wrinkles  of  his  face  ; 

Her  modest  eloquence  with  sighs  is  mix’d, 

Which  to  her  oratory  adds  more  grace. 

She  puts  the  period  often  from  his  place, 


SHAKESPEARE’S  POEMS . 

And  midst  the  sentence  so  her  accent  breaks, 

That  twice  she  doth  begin  ere  once  she  speaks. 

She  conjures  him  by  high  almighty  Jove, 

By  knighthood,  gentry,  and  sweet  friendship’s  oath, 

By  her  untimely  tears,  her  husband’s  love,  57o 

By  holy  human  law,  and  common  troth, 

By  heaven  and  earth,  and  all  the  power  of  both, 

That  to  his  borrow’d  bed  he  make  retire, 

And  stoop  to  honour,  not  to  foul  desire. 

Quoth  she, ‘Reward  not  hospitality 

With  such  black  payment  as  thou  hast  pretended  ; 

Mud  not  the  fountain  that  gave  drink  to  thee  ; 

Mar  not  the  thing  that  cannot  be  amended  ; 

End  thy  ill  aim  before  thy  shoot  be  ended ; 

He  is  no  woodman  that  doth  bend  his  bow  580 

To  strike  a poor  unseasonable  doe. 


‘ My  husband  is  thy  friend ; for  his  sake  spare  me  : 


■--Thyself  art  mighty  ; for  thine  own  sake  leave  me: 
Myself  a weakling;  do  not  then  ensnare  me  : 


TWou  look’st  not  like  deceit;  do  not  deceive  me. 

My  sighs,  like  whirlwinds,  labour  hence  to  heave  thee  : 
If  ever  man  were  mov’d  with  woman’s  moans, 

Be  moved  with  my  tears,  my  sighs,  my  groans  ; 

‘All  which  together,  like  a troubled  ocean, 

Beat  at  thy  rocky  and  wrack-threatening  heart,  590 
To  soften  it  with  their  continual  motion, 

For  stones  dissolv’d  to  water  do  convert. 

O,  if  no  harder  than  a stone  thou  art, 

Melt  at  my  tears,  and  be  compassionate ! 

Soft  pity  enters  at  an  iron  gate. 

‘In  Tarquin’s  likeness  I did  entertain  thee; 

Hast  thou  put  on  his  shape  to  do  him  shame? 

To  all  the  host  of  heaven  I complain  me, 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


i°3 


Thou  wrong’st  his  honour,  wound’st  his  princely  name. 
Thou  art  not  what  thou  seem’st ; and  if  the  same,  600 
Thou  seem’st  not  what  thou  art,  a god,  a king ; 

For  kings  like  gods  should  govern  every  thing. 

‘ How  will  thy  shame  be  seeded  in  thine  age, 

When  thus  thy  vices  bud  before  thy  spring ! 

If  in  thy  hope  thou  dar’st  do  such  outrage, 

What  dar’st  thou  not  when  once  thou  art  a king? 

O,  be  remember’d,  no  outrageous  thing 
From  vassal  actors  can  be  wip’d  away; 

Then  kings’  misdeeds  cannot  be  hid  in  clay. 

‘ This  deed  will  make  thee  only  lov’d  for  fear,  610 

But  happy  monarchs  still  are  fear’d  for  love; 

With  foul  offenders  thou  perforce  must  bear, 

When  they  in  thee  the  like  offences  prove: 

If  bat  for  fear  of  this,  thy  will  remove  ; 

For  princes  are  the  glass,  the  school,  the  book, 
Where  subjects’ eyes  do  learn,  do  read,  do  look. 

‘ And  wilt  thou  be  the  school  where  Lust  shall  learn  ? 
Must  he  in  thee  read  lectures  of  such  shame  ? 

Wilt  thou  be  glass  wherein  it  shall  discern 
Authority  for  sin,  warrant  for  blame, 

To  privilege  dishonour  in  thy  name  ? 

Thou  back’st  reproach  against  long-living  laud, 

And  mak’st  fair  reputation  but  a bawd. 

‘ Hast  thou  command  ? by  him  that  gave  it  thee, 

From  a pure  heart  command  thy  rebel  will; 

Draw  not  thy  sword  to  guard  iniquity, 

For  it  was  lent  thee  all  that  brood  to  kill. 

Thy  princely  office  how  canst  thou  fulfil, 

When,  pattern’d  by  thy  fault,  foul  sin  may  say, 

He  learn’d  to  sin,  and  thou  didst  teach  the  way?  630 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 

‘Think  but  how  vile  a spectacle  it  were, 

To  view  thy  present  trespass  in  another. 

Men’s  faults  do  seldom  to  themselves  appear ; 

Their  own  transgressions  partially  they  smother: 

This  guilt  would  seem  death-worthy  in  thy  brother. 
O,  how  are  they  wrapp’d  in  with  infamies 
That  from  their  own  misdeeds  askance  their  eyes 

‘To  thee,  to  thee,  my  heav’d-up  hands  appeal, 

Not  to  seducing  lust,  thy  rash  relier  : 

I sue  for  exil’d  majesty’s  repeal ; 

Let  him  return,  and  flattering  thoughts  retire: 

His  true  respect  will  prison  false  desire, 

And  wipe  the  dim  mist  from  thy  doting  eyne, 
That  thou  shalt  see  thy  state  and  pity  mine.’ 

‘Have  done,’  quoth  he;  ‘my  uncontrolled  tide 

Turns  not,  but  swells  the  higher  by  this  let. 

Small  lights  are  soon  blown  out,  huge  fires  abide, 

And  with  the  wind  in  greater  fury  fret ; 

The  petty  streams  that  pay  a daily  debt 

To  their  salt  sovereign,  with  their  fresh  falls’  haste 
Add  to  his  flow,  but  alter  not  his  taste.’ 

‘Thou  art,’  quoth  she,  ‘a  sea,  a sovereign  king ; 

And  lo,  there  falls  into  thy  boundless  flood 

Black  lust,  dishonour,  shame,  misgoverning, 

Who  seek  to  stain  the  ocean  of  thy  blood. 

If  all  these  petty  ills  shall  change  thy  good, 

Thy  sea  within  a puddle’s  womb  is  hears’d, 

And  not  the  puddle  in  thy  sea  dispers’d. 

‘ So  shall  these  slaves  be  king,  and  thou  their  slave  ; 

Thou  nobly  base,  they  basely  dignified  ; 

Thou  their  fair  life,  and  they  thy  fouler  grave; 

Thou  loathed  in  their  shame,  they  in  thy  pride: 

The  lesser  thing  should  not  the  greater  hide; 


THE  RAPE  OE  LUCRE CE. 


IC5 

The  cedar  stoops  not  to  the  base  shrub’s  foot, 

But  low  shrubs  wither  at  the  cedar’s  root. 

‘ So  let  thy  thoughts,  low  vassals  to  thy  state  ’ — 

‘No  more,’  quoth  he  ; ‘by  heaven,  I will  not  hear  thee: 
Yield  to  my  love ; if  not,  enforced  hate, 

Instead  of  love’s  coy  touch,  shall  rudely  tear  thee  ; 

That  done,  despitefully  I mean  to  bear  thee  e7o 

Unto  the  base  bed  of  some  rascal  groom, 

To  be  thy  partner  in  this  shameful  doom,’ 

This  said,  he  sets  his  foot  upon  the  light, 

For  light  and  lust  are  deadly  enemies; 

Shame  folded  up  in  blind  concealing  night, 

When  mqst  unseen,  then  n)6st  doth  tyrannize. 

The  \yolf  hath  seiz’d  his  prey,  the  poor  lamb  cries; 

Till  wi^h  her  owp  white  fleece  her  voice  controtl’d 
Entombs  her  outcry  in  her  lips’  sweet  fold  : 

For  with  the  nightly  linen  that  she  wears  ego 

He  pens  her  piteous  clamours  in  her  head, 

Cooling  his  hot  face  in  the  chastest  tears 
That  ever  modest  eyes  with  sorrow  shed. 

O,  that  prone  lust  should  stain  so  pure  a bed  I 
The  spots  whereof  could  weeping  purify, 

Her  tears  should  drop  on  them  perpetually. 

But  she  hath  lost  a dearer  thing  than  life, 

And  he  hath  won  what  he  would  lose  again  : 

This  forced  league  doth  force  a further  strife; 

This  momentary  joy  breeds  months  of  pain;  690 

This  hot  desire  converts  to  cold  disdain ; 

Pure  Chastity  is  rifled  of  her  store, 

And  Lust,  the  thief,  far  poorer  than  before. 

Look,  as  the  full-fed  hound  or  gorged  hawk, 

Unapt  for  tender  smell  or  speedy  flight, 

Make  slow  pursuit,  or  altogether  balk 


The  prey  wherein  by  nature  they  delight, 

So  surfeit-taking  Tarquin  fares  this  night; 

His  taste  delicious,  in  digestion  souring, 

Devours  his  will,  that  liv’d  by  foul  devouring.  700 

O,  deeper  sin  than  bottomless  conceit 
Can  comprehend  in  still  imagination  ! 

Drunken  Desire  must  vomit  his  receipt, 

Ere  he  can  see  his  own  abomination. 

While  Lust  is  in  his  pride,  no  exclamation 
Can  curb  his  heat  or  rein  his  rash  desire, 

Till  like  a jade  Self-will  himself  doth  tire. 

And  then  with  lank  and  lean  discolour’d  cheek, 

With  heavy  eye,  knit  brow,  and  strengthless  pace, 
Feeble  Desire,  all  recreant,  poor,  and  meek,  710 

Like  to  a bankrupt  beggar  wails  his  case: 

The  flesh  being  proud,  Desire  doth  fight  with  Grace, 
For  there  it  revels;  and  when  that  decays, 

The  guilty  rebel  for  remission  prays. 

So  fares  it  with  this  faultful  lord  of  Rome, 

Who  this  accomplishment  so  hotly  chas’d; 

For  now  against  himself  he  sounds  this  doom, 

That  through  the  length  of  times  he  stands  disgrac’d: 
Besides,  his  soul’s  fair  temple  is  defac’d  ; 

To  whose  weak  ruins  muster  troops  of  cares,  720 
To  ask  the  spotted  princess  how  she  fares. 

She  says,  her  subjects  with  foul  insurrection 
Have  batter’d  down  her  consecrated  wall, 

And  by  their  mortal  fault  brought  in  subjection 
Her  immortality,  and  made  her  thrall 
To  living  death  and  pain  perpetual; 

Which  in  her  prescience  she  controlled  still, 

But  her  foresight  could  not  forestall  their  will. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE. 


107 

Even  in  this  thought  through  the  dark  night  he  stealeth, 
A captive  victor  that  hath  lost  in  gain  ; 730 

Bearing  away  the  wound  that  nothing  healeth, 

The  scar  that  will,  despite  of  cure,  remain  ; 

Leaving  his  spoil  perplex’d  in  greater  pain. 

She  bears  the  load  of  lust  he  left  behind, 

And  he  the  burthen  of  a guilty  mind. 

He  like  a thievish  dog  creeps  sadly  thence; 

She  like  a wearied  lamb  lies  panting  there; 

He  scowls  and  hates  himself  for  his  offence; 

She,  desperate,  with  her  nails  her  flesh  doth  tear; 

He  faintly  flies,  sweating  with  guilty  fear;  740 

She  stays,  exclaiming  on  the  direful  night; 

He  runs,  and  chides  his  vanish’d,  loath’d  delight. 

He  thence  departs  a heavy  convertite  ; 

She  there  remains  a hopeless  castaway ; 

He  in  his  speed  looks  for  the  morning  light; 

She  prays  she  never  may  behold  the  day, 

‘ For  day/  quoth  she,  ‘ night’s  scapes  doth  open  lay, 

And  my  true  eyes  have  never  practis’d  how 
To  cloak  offences  with  a cunning  brow. 

‘They  think  not  but  that  every  eye  can  see  75° 

The  same  disgrace  which  they  themselves  behold  ; 

And  therefore  would  they  still  in  darkness  be, 

To  have  their  unseen  sin  remain  untold ; 

For  they  their  guilt  with  weeping  will  unfold, 

And  grave,  like  water  that  doth  eat  in  steel, 

Upon  my  cheeks  what  helpless  shame  I feel. 

Here  she  exclaims  against  repose  and  rest, 

And  bids  her  eyes  hereafter  still  be  blind ; 

She  wakes  her  heart  by  beating  on  her  breast, 

And  bids  it  leap  from  thence,  where  it  may  find 
Some  purer  chest  to  close  so  pure  a mind. 


760 


' 3 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 

Frantic  with  grief  thus  breathes  she  forth  her  spite 
Against  the  unseen  secrecy  of  night : 

‘ O comfort-killing  Night,  image  of  hell ! 

Dim  register  and  notary  of  shame  ! 

Black  stage  for  tragedies  and  murthers  fell ! 

Vast  sin-concealing  chaos  ! nurse  of  blame  ! 

Blind  muffled  bawd  ! dark  harbour  for  defame ! 

Grim  cave  of  death  ! whispering  conspirator 

With  close-tongued  treason  and  the  ravisher ! 77o 

‘O  hateful,  vaporous,  and  foggy  Night! 

Since  thou  art  guilty  of  my  cureless  crime, 

Muster  thy  mists  to  meet  the  eastern  light. 

Make  war  against  proportion’d  course  of  time  ; 

Or  if  thou  wilt  permit  the  sun  to  climb 
His  wonted  height,  yet  ere  he  go  to  bed 
Knit  poisonous  clouds  about  his  golden  head. 

‘With  rotten  damps  ravish  the  morning  air ; 

Let  their  exhal’d  unwholesome  breaths  make  sick 
The  life  of  purity,  the  supreme  fair, 

Ere  he  arrive  his  weary  noon-tide  prick ; 

And  let  thy  misty  vapours  march  so  thick, 

That  in  their  smoky  ranks  his  smother’d  light 
May  set  at  noon  and  make  perpetual  night. 

‘ Were  Tarquin  Night,  as  he  is  but  Night’s  child, 

The  silver-shining  queen  he  would  distain; 

Her  twinkling  handmaids  too,  by  him  defil’d, 

Through  Night’s  black  bosom  should  not  peep  again : 
So  should  I have  co-partners  in  my  pain  ; 

And  fellowship  in  woe  doth  woe  assuage,  790 

As  palmers’  chat  makes  short  their  pilgrimage. 

< Where  now  I have  no  one  to  blush  with  me, 

To  cross  their  arms  and  hang  their  heads  with  mine, 
To  mask  their  brows  and  hide  their  infamy ; 


78c 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


109 


But  I alone  alone  must  sit  and  pine, 

Seasoning  the  earth  with  showers  of  silver  brine, 
Mingling  my  talk  with  tears,  my  grief  with  groans, 
Poor  wasting  monuments  of  lasting  moans. 

‘ O Night,  thou  furnace  of  foul-reeking  smoke, 

Let  not  the  jealous  Day  behold  that  face  800 

Which  underneath  thy  black  all-hiding  cloak 
Immodestly  lies  martyr’d  with  disgrace! 

Keep  still  possession  of  thy  gloomy  place, 

That  all  the  faults  which  in  thy  reign  are  made 
May  likewise  be  sepulchred  in  thy  shade  ! 

‘Make  me  not  object  to  the  tell-tale  Day! 

The  light  will  show,  character’d  in  my  brow, 

The  story  of  sweet  chastity’s  decay, 

The  impious  breach  of  holy  wedlock  vow; 

Yea,  the  illiterate,  that  know  not  how  810 

To  cipher  what  is  writ  in  learned  books, 

Will  quote  my  loathsome  trespass  in  my  looks. 

‘The  nurse,  to  still  her  child,  will  tell  my  story, 

And  fright  her  crying  babe  with  Tarquin’s  name  ; 

The  orator,  to  deck  his  oratory, 

Will  couple  my  reproach  to  Tarquin’s  shame  ; 
Feast-finding  minstrels,  tuning  my  defame, 

Will  tie  the  hearers  to  attend  each  line, 

How  Tarquin  wronged  me,  I Collatine. 

‘Let  my  good  name,  that  senseless  reputation,  82o 

For  Collatine’s  dear  love  be  kept  unspotted ; 

If  that  be  made  a theme  for  disputation, 

The  branches  of  another  root  are  rotted, 

And  undeserv’d  reproach  to  him  allotted 
That  is  as  clear  from  this  attaint  of  mine 
As  I,  ere  this,  was  pure  to  Collatine. 


i ro 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


\ 


‘ 0 unseen  shame!  invisible  disgrace! 

O unfelt  sore  ! crest-wounding,  private  scar  ! 

Reproach  is  stamp’d  in  Collatinus’  face, 

And  Tarquin’s  eye  may  read  the  mot  afar, 

How  he  in  peace  is  wounded,  not  in  war. 

Alas,  how  many  bear  such  shameful  blows, 

Which  not  themselves,  but  he  that  gives  them 

4 If,  Collatine,  thine  honour  lay  in  me, 

From  me  by  strong  assault  it  is  bereft. 

My  honey  lost,  and  I,  a drone-like  bee, 

Have  no  perfection  of  my  summer  left, 

But  robb’d  and  ransack’d  by  injurious  theft; 

In  thy  weak  hive  a wandering  wasp  hath  crept, 

And  suck’d  the  honey  which  thy  chaste  bee  kept.  840 

4 Yet  am  I guilty  of  thy  honour’s  wrack; 

Yet  for  thy  honour  did  I entertain  him; 

Coming  from  thee,  I could  not  put  him  back, 

For  it  had  been  dishonour  to  disdain  him  : 

Besides,  of  weariness  he  did  complain  him, 

And  talk’d  of  virtue;  O unlook’d-for  evil, 

When  virtue  is  profan’d  in  such  a devil ! 

4 Why  should  the  worm  intrude  the  maiden  bud? 

Or  hateful  cuckoos  hatch  in  sparrows’  nests? 

XOr  toads  infect  fair  founts  with  venom  mud  ? 850 

Or  tyrant  folly  lurk  in  gentle  breasts? 

Or  kings  be  breakers  of  their  own  behests? 

But  no  perfection  is  so  absolute, 

That  some  impurity  doth  not  pollute. 

4 The  aged  man  that  coffers-up  his  gold 
Is  plagued  with  cramps  and  gouts  and  painful  fits, 

And  scarce  hath  eyes  his  treasure  to  behold, 

But  like  still-pining  Tantalus  he  sits, 

And  useless  barns  the  harvest  of  his  wits; 


830 


knows! 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE.  m 

Having  no  other  pleasure  of  his  gain  860 

But  torment  that  it  cannot  cure  his  pain. 

4 So  then  he  hath  it  when  he  cannot  use  it, 

And  leaves  it  to  be  master’d  by  his  young, 

Who  in  their  pride  do  presently  abuse  it ; 

Their  father  was  too  weak,  and  they  too  strong, 

To  hold  their  cursed-blessed  fortune  long. 

The  sweets  we  wish  for  turn  to  loathed  sours 
Even  in  the  moment  that  we  call  them  ours. 

‘ Unruly  blasts  wait  on  the  tender  spring; 

Unwholesome  weeds  take  root  with  precious  flowers  ; 
The  adder  hisses  where  the  sweet  birds  sing ; 871 

What  virtue  breeds  iniquity  devours: 

We  have  no  good  that  we  can  say  is  ours, 

But  ill-annexed  Opportunity 
Or  kills  his  life  or  else  his  quality. 

‘O  Opportunity,  thy  guilt  is  great ! 

’T  is  thou  that  execut’st  the  traitor’s  treason : 

Thou  set’st  the  wolf  where  he  the  lamb  may  get; 
Whoever  plots  the  sin,  thou  point’st  the  season; 

’T  is  thou  that  spurn’st  at  right,  at  law,  at  reason  ; 880 

And  in  thy  shady  cell,  where  none  may  spy  him, 

Sits  Sin,  to  seize  the  souls  that  wander  by  him. 

‘Thou  mak’st  the  vestal  violate  her  oath; 

Thou  blow’st  the  fire  when  temperance  is  thaw’d  ; 

Thou  smother’st  honesty,  thou  murther’st  troth ; 

Thou  foul  abettor ! thou  notorious  bawd  ! 

Thou  plantest  scandal  and  displacest  laud  ; 

Thou  ravisher,  thou  traitor,  thou  false  thief, 

Thy  honey  turns  to  gall,  thy  joy  to  grief! 

‘Thy  secret  pleasure  turns  to  open  shame,  890 

Thy  private  feasting  to  a public  fast, 

Thy  smoothing  titles  to  a ragged  name, 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


2 


Thy  sugar’d  tongue  to  bitter  wormwood  taste; 

Thy  violent  vanities  can  never  last. 

How  comes  it  then,  vile  Opportunity, 

Being  so  bad,  such  numbers  seek  for  thee  ? 

‘When  wilt  thou  be  the  humble  suppliant’s  friend, 
And  bring  him  where  his  suit  may  be  obtain’d  ? 
When  wilt  thou  sort  an  hour  great  strifes  to  end? 

Or  free  that  soul  which  wretchedness  hath  chain’d? 
Give  physic  to  the  sick,  ease  to  the  pain’d  ? 

The  poor,  lame,  blind,  halt,  creep,  cry  out  for  thee 
But  they  ne’er  meet  with  Opportunity. 

‘The  patient  dies  while  the  physician  sleeps; 

The  orphan  pines  while  the  oppressor  feeds; 

Justice  is  feasting  while  the  widow  weeps; 

Advice  is  sporting  while  infection  breeds. 

Thou  grant’st  no  time  for  charitable  deeds; 

Wrath,  envy,  treason,  rape,  and  murther’s  rages, 
Thy  heinous  hours  wait  on  them  as  their  pages. 

‘When  Truth  and  Virtue  have  to  do  with  thee, 

A thousand  crosses  keep  them  from  thy  aid: 

They  buy  thy  help;  but  Sin  ne’er  gives  a fee, 

He  gratis  comes ; and  thou  art  well  appaid 
As  well  to  hear  as  grant  what  he  hath  said. 

My  Collatine  would  else  have  come  to  me 
When  Tarquin  did,  but  he  was  stay’d  by  thee. 

‘ Guilty  thou  art  of  murther  and  of  theft, 

Guilty  of  perjury  and  subornation, 

Guilty  of  treason,  forgery,  and  shift, 

Guilty  of  incest,  that  abomination  ; 

An  accessary  by  thine  inclination 

To  all  sins  past,  and  all  that  are  to  come, 

From  the  creation  to  the  general  doom. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


113 

‘Misshapen  Time,  copesmate  of  ugly  Night, 

Swift  subtle  post,  carrier  of  grisly  care, 

Eater  of  youth,  false  slave  to  false  delight, 

Base  watch  of  woes,  sin’s  pack-horse,  virtue  s snare, 
Thou  nursest  all  and  murther’st  all  that  are; 

O,  hear  me  then,  injurious,  shifting  Time  ! 930 

Be  guilty  of  my  death,  since  of  my  crime. 

< Why  hath  thy  servant,  Opportunity, 

Betray’d  the  hours  thou  gav’st  me  to  repose, 

Cancell’d  my  fortunes,  and  enchained  me 
To  endless  date  of  never-ending  woes? 

Time’s  office  is  to  fine  the  hate  of  foes; 

To  eat  up  errors  by  opinion  bred, 

Not  spend  the  dowry  of  a lawful  bed. 

6 Time’s  glory  is  to  calm  contending  kings, 

To  unmask  falsehood  and  bring  truth  to  light,  940 

To  stamp  the  seal  of  time  in  aged  things, 

To  wake  the  morn  and  sentinel  the  night, 

To  wrong  the  wronger  till  he  render  right, 

To  ruinate  proud  buildings  with  thy  hours, 

And  smear  with  dust  their  glittering  golden  towers; 

‘To  fill  with  worm-holes  stately  monuments, 

To  feed  oblivion  with  decay  of  things, 

To  blot  old  books  and  alter  their  contents, 

To  pluck  the  quills  from  ancient  ravens’  wings, 

To  dry  the  old  oak’s  sap  and  cherish  springs,  950 

To  spoil  antiquities  of  hammer’d  steel, 

And  turn  the  giddy  round  of  Fortune’s  wheel ; 

‘To  show  the  beldam  daughters  of  her  daughter, 

To  make  the  child  a man,  the  man  a child, 

To  slay  the  tiger  that  doth  live  by  slaughter, 

To  tame  the  unicorn  and  lion  wild, 

To  mock  the  subtle  in  themselves  beguil’d, 

H 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


To  cheer  the  ploughman  with  increaseful  crops, 

And  waste  huge  stones  with  little  water-drops. 

‘ Why  work’st  thou  mischief  in  thy  pilgrimage,  96c 

Unless  thou  couldst  return  to  make  amends? 

One  poor  retiring  minute  in  an  age 

Would  purchase  thee  a thousand  thousand  friends, 

Lending  him  wit  that  to  bad  debtors  lends; 

O,  this  dread  night,  wouldst  thou  one  hour  come  back, 
I could  prevent  this  storm  and  shun  thy  wrack  ! 

‘ Thou  ceaseless  lackey  to  eternity, 

With  some  mischance  cross  Tarquin  in  his  flight: 
Devise  extremes  beyond  extremity, 

To  make  him  curse  this  cursed  crimeful  night;  970 
Let  ghastly  shadows  his  lewd  eyes  affright, 

And  the  dire  thought  of  his  committed  evil 
Shape  every  bush  a hideous  shapeless  devil. 

‘ Disturb  his  hours  of  rest  with  restless  trances, 

Afflict  him  in  his  bed  with  bedrid  groans; 

Let  there  bechance  him  pitiful  mischances, 

To  make  him  moan,  but  pity  not  his  moans; 

Stone  him  with  harden’d  hearts,  harder  than  stones; 
And  let  mild  women  to  him  lose  their  mildness, 
Wilder  to  him  than  tigers  in  their  wildness.  980 

‘Let  him  have  time  to  tear  his  curled  hair, 

Let  him  have  time  against  himself  to  rave, 

Let  him  have  time  of  Time’s  help  to  despair, 

Let  him  have  time  to  live  a loathed  slave, 

Let  him  have  time  a beggar’s  orts  to  crave, 

And  time  to  see  one  that  by  alms  doth  live 
Disdain  to  him  disdained  scraps  to  give. 

‘ Let  him  have  time  to  see  his  friends  his  foes, 

And  merry  fools  to  mock  at  him  resort; 

Let  him  have  time  to  mark  how  slow  time  goes  99° 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE . 


US 

In  time  of  sorrow,  and  how  swift  and  short 
His  time  of  folly  and  his  time  of  sport; 

And  ever  let  his  unrecalling  crime 
Have  time  to  wail  the  abusing  of  his  time. 

‘O  Time,  thou  tutor  both  to  good  and  bad, 

Teach  me  to  curse  him  that  thou  taught’st  this  ill ! 

At  his  own  shadow  let  the  thief  run  mad, 

Himself  himself  seek  every  hour  to  kill ! 

Such  wretched  hands  such  wretched  blood  should  spill; 
For  who  so  base  would  such  an  office  have  1000 

As  slanderous  deathsman  to  so  base  a slave  ? 

‘The  baser  is  he,  coming  from  a king, 

To  shame  his  hope  with  deeds  degenerate; 

The  mightier  man,  the  mightier  is  the  thing 
That  makes  him  honour’d  or  begets  him  hate, 

For  greatest  scandal  waits  on  greatest  state. 

The  moon  being  clouded  presently  is  miss’d, 

But  little  stars  may  hide  them  when  they  list. 

‘The  crow  may  bathe  his  coal-black  wings  in  mire, 

And  unperceiv’d  fly  with  the  filth  away;  ,010 

But  if  the  like  the  snow-white  swan  desire, 

The  stain  upon  his  silver  down  will  stay. 

Poor  grooms  are  sightless  night,  kings  glorious  day; 
Gnats  are  unnoted  wheresoe’er  they  fly, 

But  eagles  gaz’d  upon  with  every  eye. 

‘ Out,  idle  words,  servants  to  shallow  fools  ! 
Unprofitable  sounds,  weak  arbitrators! 

Busy  yourselves  in  skill-contending  schools; 

Debate  where  leisure  serves  with  dull  debaters; 

To  trembling  clients  be  you  mediators  : i020 

For  me,  I force  not  argument  a straw, 

Since  that  my  case  is  past  the  help  of  law. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


Poor  helpless  help,  the  treasure  stolen  away, 

To  burn  the  guiltless  casket  where  it  lay ! 

‘ Well, 'well,  dear  Collatine,  thou  shalt  not  know 
The  stained  taste  of  violated  troth; 

I will  not  wrong  thy  true  affection  so, 

To  flatter  thee  with  an  infringed  oath ; 

This  bastard  graflf  shall  never  come  to  growth  : 

He  shall  not  boast  who  did  thy  stock  pollute 
That  thou  art  doting  father  of  his  fruit. 

‘Nor  shall  he  smile  at  thee  in  secret  thought, 

Nor  laugh  with  his  companions  at  thy  state ; 

But  thou  shalt  know  thy  interest  was  not  bought 
Basely  with  gold,  but  stolen  from  forth  thy  gate. 

For  me,  I am  the  mistress  of  my  fate, 

And  with  my  trespass  never  will  dispense, 

Till  life  to  death  acquit  my  forc’d  offence. 

‘ I will  not  poison  thee  with  my  attaint, 

Nor  fold  my  fault  in  cleanly-coin’d  excuses; 

My  sable  ground  of  sin  I will  not  paint, 

To  hide  the  truth  of  this  false  night’s  abuses: 

My  tongue  shall  utter  all ; mine  eyes,  like  sluices, 
As  from  a mountain-spring  that  feeds  a dale, 
Shall  gush  pure  streams  to  purge  my  impure  tale. 

By  this,  lamenting  Philomel  had  ended 
The  well-tun’d  warble  of  her  nightly  sorrow, 

And  solemn  night  with  slow  sad  gait  descended 
To  ugly  hell ; when,  lo,  the  blushing  morrow 
Lends  light  to  all  fair  eyes  that  light  will  borrow: 
But  cloudy  Lucrece  shames  herself  to  see, 

And  therefore  still  in  night  would  cloister’d  be. 

Revealing  day  through  every  cranny  spies, 

And  seems  to  point  her  out  where  she  sits  weeping 
To  whom  she  sobbing  speaks  : ‘ O eye  of  eyes, 


1 18 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


Why  pry’st  thou  through  my  window  ? leave  thy  peep- 

i ng; 

Mock  with  thy  tickling  beams  eyes  that  are  sleeping ; 
Brand  not  my  forehead  with  thy  piercing  light,  1091 
For  day  hath  nought  to  do  what ’s  done  by  night.’ 

Thus  cavils  she  with  every  thing  she  sees: 

True  grief  is  fond  and  testy  as  a child, 

Who  wayward  once,  his  mood  with  nought  agrees; 

Old  woes,  not  infant  sorrows,  bear  them  mild: 
Continuance  tames  the  one  ; the  other  wild, 

Like  an  unpractis’d  swimmer  plunging  still, 

With  too  much  labour  drowns  for  want  of  skill. 

So  she,  deep-drenched  in  a sea  of  care,  uoo 

Holds  disputation  with  each  thing  she  views, 

And  to  herself  all  sorrow  doth  compare ; 

No  object  but  her  passion’s  strength  renews; 

And  as  one  shifts,  another  straight  ensues  : 

Sometime  her  grief  is  dumb  and  hath  no  words ; 
Sometime ’t  is  mad  and  too  much  talk  affords. 

The  little  birds  that  tune  their  morning’s  joy 
Make  her  moans  mad  with  their  sweet  melody  : 

For  mirth  doth  search  the  bottom  of  annoy ; 

Sad  souls  are  slain  in  merry  company ; mo 

Grief  best  is  pleas’d  with  grief’s  society; 

True  sorrow  then  is  feelingly  suffic’d 
When  with  like  semblance  it  is  sympathiz’d. 

’T  is  double  death  to  drown  in  ken  of  shore  ; 

He  ten  times  pines  that  pines  beholding  food  ; 

To  see  the  salve  doth  make  the  wound  ache  more  ; 
Great  grief  grieves  most  at  that  would  do  it  good  ; 

Deep  woes  roll  forward  like  a gentle  flood, 

Who,  being  stopp’d,  the  bounding  banks  o’erflows  ; 
Grief  dallied  with  nor  law  nor  limit  knows.  1120 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE. 


119 

‘ You  mocking  birds/  quoth  she, ‘ your  tunes  entomb 
Within  your  hollow-swelling  feather’d  breasts, 

And  in  my  hearing  be  you  mute  and  dumb ; 

My  restless  discord  loves  no  stops  nor  rests ; 

A woeful  hostess  brooks  not  merry  guests  : 

Relish  your  nimble  notes  to  pleasing  ears ; 

Distress  likes  dumps  when  time  is  kept  with  tears. 

‘ Come,  Philomel,  that  sing’st  of  ravishment, 

Make  thy  sad  grove  in  my  dishevell’d  hair  : 

As  the  dank  earth  weeps  at  thy  languishment,  n3o 

So  I at  each  sad  strain  will  strain  a tear, 

And  with  deep  groans  the  diapason  bear ; 

For  burden-wise  I ’ll  hum  on  Tarquin  still, 

While  thou  on  Tereus  descant’st  better  skill. 

‘ And  whiles  against  a thorn  thou  bear’st  thy  part, 

To  keep  thy  sharp  woes  waking,  wretched  I, 

To  imitate  thee  well,  against  my  heart 
Will  fix  a sharp  knife  to  affright  mine  eye, 

Who,  if  it  wink,  shall  thereon  fall  and  die. 

These  means,  as  frets  upon  an  instrument,  1140 

Shall  tune  our  heart-strings  to  true  languishment. 

4 And  for,  poor  bird,  thou  sing’st  not  in  the  day, 

As  shaming  any  eye  should  thee  behold, 

Some  dark  deep  desert,  seated  from  the  way, 

That  knows  not  parching  heat  nor  freezing  cold, 

Will  we  find  out  ; and  there  we  will  unfold 

To  creatures  stern  sad  tunes,  to  change  their  kinds: 
Since  men  prove  beasts,  let  beasts  bear  gentle  minds.’ 

As  the  poor  frighted  deer,  that  stands  at  gaze, 

Wildly  determining  which  way  to  fly,  115° 

Or  one  encompass’d  with  a winding  maze, 

That  cannot  tread  the  way  out  readily; 

So  with  herself  is  she  in  mutiny, 


120 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


To  live  or  die  which  of  the  twain  were  better, 

When  life  is  sham’d,  and  death  reproach’s  debtor. 

( Io  kill  myself,’  quoth  she,  ‘ alack,  what  were  it, 

But  with  my  body  my  poor  soul’s  pollution? 

They  that  lose  half  with  greater  patience  bear  it 
Than  they  whose  whole  is  swallow’d  in  confusion. 

That  mother  tries  a merciless  conclusion  ,160 

Who,  having  two  sweet  babes,  when  death  takes  one, 
Will  slay  the  other  and  be  nurse  to  none. 

‘ My  body  or  my  soul,  which  was  the  dearer, 

When  the  one  pure,  the  other  made  divine? 

Whose  love  of  either  to  myself  was  nearer, 

When  both  were  kept  for  heaven  and  Collatine? 

Ay  me ! the  bark  peel’d  from  the  lofty  pine, 

His  leaves  will  wither  and  his  sap  decay; 

So  must  my  soul,  her  bark  being  peel’d  away. 

‘ Her  house  is  sack’d,  her  quiet  interrupted,  n7o 

Her  mansion  batter’d  by  the  enemy  ; 

Her  sacred  temple  spotted,  spoil’d,  corrupted, 

Grossly  engirt  with  daring  infamy: 

Then  let  it  not  be  call’d  impiety, 

If  in  this  blemish’d  fort  I make  some  hole 
Through  which  I may  convey  this  troubled  soul. 

* Yet  die  I will  not  till  my  Collatine 
Have  heard  the  cause  of  my  untimely  death  ; 

That  he  may  vow,  in  that  sad  hour  of  mine, 

Revenge  on  him  that  made  me  stop  my  breath.  ,,8o 
My  stained  blood  to  Tarquin  I ’ll  bequeath, 

Which  by  him  tainted  shall  for  him  be  spent, 

And  as  his  due  writ  in  my  testament. 

4 My  honour  I ’ll  bequeath  unto  the  knife 
That  wounds  my  body  so  dishonoured. 

’T  is  honour  to  deprive  dishonour’d  life; 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE. 


12 1 


The  one  will  live,  the  other  being  dead : 

So  of  shame’s  ashes  shall  my  fame  be  bred, 

For  in  my  death  I murther  shameful  scorn ; 

My  shame  so  dead,  mine  honour  is  new-born.  1190 

‘ Dear  lord  of  that  dear  jewel  I have  lost, 

What  legacy  shall  I bequeath  to  thee? 

My  resolution,  love,  shall  be  thy  boast, 

By  whose  example  thou  reveng’d  mayst  be. 

How  Tarquin  must  be  us’d,  read  it  in  me; 

Myself,  thy  friend,  will  kill  myself,  thy  foe, 

And  for  my  sake  serve  thou  false  Tarquin  so. 

4 This  brief  abridgement  of  my  will  I make : 

My  soul  and  body  to  the  skies  and  ground; 

My  resolution,  husband,  do  thou  take  ; 1200 

Mine  honour  be  the  knife’s  that  makes  my  wound  ; 

My  shame  be  his  that  did  my  fame  confound ; 

And  all  my  fame  that  lives  disbursed  be 
To  those  that  live,  and  think  no  shame  of  me. 

* Thou,  Collatine,  shalt  oversee  this  will ; 

How  was  I overseen  that  thou  shalt  see  it! 

My  blood  shall  wash  the  slander  of  mine  ill; 

My  life’s  foul  deed,  my  life’s  fair  end  shall  free  it. 

Faint  not,  faint  heart,  but  stoutly  say  “ So  be  it 

Yield  to  my  hand ; my  hand  shall  conquer  thee  : 1210 
Thou  dead,  both  die,  and  both  shall  victors  be.’ 

This  plot  of  death  when  sadly  she  had  laid, 

And  wip’d  the  brinish  pearl  from  her  bright  eyes, 

With  untun’d  tongue  she  hoarsely  calls  her  maid, 
Whose  swift  obedience  to  her  mistress  hies; 

For  fleet-wing’d  duty  with  thought’s  feathers  flies. 

Poor  Lucrece’  cheeks  unto  her  maid  seem  so 
As  winter  meads  when  sun  doth  melt  their  snow. 


122 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Her  mistress  she  doth  give  demure  good-morrow, 

With  soft-slow  tongue,  true  mark  of  modesty,  r22o 

And  sorts  a sad  look  to  her  lady’s  sorrow, 

For  why,  her  face  wore  sorrow’s  livery ; 

But  durst  not  ask  of  her  audaciously 

Why  her  two  suns  were  cloud-eclipsed  so, 

Nor  why  her  fair  cheeks  over-wash’d  with  woe. 

But  as  the  earth  doth  weep,  the  sun  being  set, 

Each  flower  moisten’d  like  a melting  eye, 

Even  so  the  maid  with  swelling  drops  gan  wet 
Her  circled  eyne,  enforc’d  by  sympathy 
Of  those  fair  suns  set  in  her  mistress’  sky,  123c 

Who  in  a salt-wav’d  ocean  quench  their  light, 

Which  makes  the  maid  weep  like  the  dewy  night. 

A pretty  while  these  pretty  creatures  stand, 

Like  ivory  conduits  coral  cisterns  filling: 

One  justly  weeps  ; the  other  takes  in  hand 
No  cause,  but  company,  of  her  drops  spilling: 

Their  gentle  sex  to  weep  are  often  willing ; 

Grieving  themselves  to  guess  at  others’  smarts, 

And  then  they  drown  their  eyes  or  break  their  hearts. 

For  men  have  marble,  women  waxen,  minds,  1240 

And  therefore  are  they  form’d  as  marble  wall ; 

The  w^eak  oppress’d,  the  impression  of  strange  kinds 
Is  form’d  in  them  by  force,  by  fraud,  or  skill  : 

Then  call  them  not  the  authors  of  their  ill, 

No  more  than  wax  shall  be  accounted  evil 
Wherein  is  stamp’d  the  semblance  of  a devil. 

Their  smoothness,  like  a goodly  champaign  plain, 

Lays  open  all  the  little  worms  that  creep ; 

In  men,  as  in  a rough-grown  grove,  remain 
Cave-keeping  evils  that  obscurely  sleep  : 

Through  crystal  walls  each  little  mote  will  peep; 


1250 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


123 


Though  men  can  cover  crimes  with  bold  stern  looks, 
Poor  women's  faces  are  their  own  faults'  books. 

No  man  inveigh  against  the  wither'd  flower, 

But  chide  rough  winter  that  the  flower  hath  kill'd ; 

Not  that  devour’d,  but  that  which  doth  devour, 

Is  worthy  blame.  O,  let  it  not  be  hild 
Poor  women’s  faults,  that  they  are  so  fulfill’d 

With  men’s  abuses;  those  proud  lords,  to  blame, 
Make  weak-made  women  tenants  to  their  shame.  1260 

The  precedent  whereof  in  Lucrece  view, 

Assail’d  by  night  with  circumstances  strong 
Of  present  death,  and  shame  that  might  ensue 
By  that  her  death,  to  do  her  husband  wrong: 

Such  danger  to  resistance  did  belong, 

That  dying  fear  through  all  her  body  spread  ; 

And  who  cannot  abuse  a body  dead? 

By  this,  mild  patience  bid  fair  Lucrece  speak 
To  the  poor  counterfeit  of  her  complaining: 

4 My  girl,'  quoth  she,  4 on  what  occasion  break  1270 

Those  tears  from  thee,  that  down  thy  cheeks  are  rain- 
ing? 

If  thou  dost  weep  for  grief  of  my  sustaining, 

Know,  gentle  wench,  it  small  avails  my  mood; 

If  tears  could  help,  mine  own  would  do  me  good. 

4 But  tell  me,  girl,  when  went' — and  there  she  stay’d 
Till  after  a deep  groan — 4Tarquin  from  hence?' 

4 Madam,  ere  I was  up,'  replied  the  maid, 

4 The  more  to  blame  my  sluggard  negligence : 

Yet  with  the  fault  I thus  far  can  dispense  ; 

Myself  was  stirring  ere  the  break  of  day,  1280 

And,  ere  I rose,  was  Tarquin  gone  away. 

4 But,  lady,  if  your  maid  may  be  so  bold, 

She  would  request  to  know  your  heaviness.' 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


125 


Besides,  the  life  and  feeling  of  her  passion 
She  hoards,  to  spend  when  he  is  by  to  hear  her ; 

When  sighs  and  groans  and  tears  may  grace  the  fashion 
Of  her  disgrace,  the  better  so  to  clear  her  1320 

From  that  suspicion  which  the  world  might  bear  her. 

To  shun  this  blot,  she  would  not  blot  the  letter 
With  words,  till  action  might  become  them  better. 

To  see  sad  sights  moves  more  than  hear  them  told; 

For  then  the  eye  interprets  to  the  ear 
The  heavy  motion  that  it  doth  behold, 

When  every  part  a part  of  woe  doth  bear. 

’T  is  but  a part  of  sorrow  that  we  hear; 

Deep  sounds  make  lesser  noise  than  shallow  fords, 
And  sorrow  ebbs,  being  blown  with  wind  of  words. 

Her  letter  now  is  seal’d,  and  on  it  writ  1331 

‘At  Ardea  to  my  lord  with  more  than  haste.’ 

The  post  attends,  and  she  delivers  it, 

Charging  the  sour-fac’d  groom  to  hie  as  fast 
As  lagging  fowls  before  the  northern  blast: 

Speed  more  than  speed  but  dull  and  slow  she  deems ; 
Extremity  still  urgeth  such  extremes. 

The  homely  villain  curtsies  to  her  low, 

And,  blushing  on  her,  with  a steadfast  eye 

Receives  the  scroll  without  or  yea  or  no,  1340 

And  forth  with  bashful  innocence  doth  hie. 

But  they  whose  guilt  within  their  bosoms  lie 
Imagine  every  eye  beholds  their  blame ; 

For  Lucrece  thought  he  blush’d  to  see  her  shame, 

When,  silly  groom  ! God  wot,  it  was  defect 
Of  spirit,  life,  and  bold  audacity. 

Such  harmless  creatures  have  a true  respect 
To  talk  in  deeds,  while  others  saucily 
Promise  more  speed,  but  do  it  leisurely ; 


126 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


Even  so  this  pattern  of  the  worn-out  age  1350 

Pawn’d  honest  looks,  but  laid  no  words  to  gage. 

His  kindled  duty  kindled  her  mistrust, 

That  two  red  fires  in  both  their  faces  blaz’d  ; 

She  thought  he  blush’d,  as  knowing  Tarquin’s  lust, 

And,  blushing  with  him,  wistly  on  him  gaz’d. 

Her  earnest  eye  did  make  him  more  amaz’d; 

I he  more  she  saw  the  blood  his  cheeks  replenish, 
The  more  she  thought  he  spied  in  her  some  blemish. 

But  long  she  thinks  till  he  return  again, 

And  yet  the  duteous  vassal  scarce  is  gone.  1360 

The  weary  time  she  cannot  entertain, 

For  now ’t  is  stale  to  sigh,  to  weep,  and  groan ; 

So  woe  hath  wearied  woe,  moan  tired  moan, 

That  she  her  plaints  a little  while  doth  stay, 

Pausing  for  means  to  mourn  some  newer  way. 

At  last  she  calls  to  mind  where  hangs  a piece 
Of  skilful  painting,  made  for  Priam’s  Troy, 

Before  the  which  is  drawn  the  power  of  Greece, 

For  Helen’s  rape  the  city  to  destroy, 

Threatening  cloud-kissing  Ilion  with  annoy;  1370 

Which  the  conceited  painter  drew  so  proud, 

As  heaven,  it  seem’d,  to  kiss  the  turrets  bow’d. 

A thousand  lamentable  objects  there, 

In  scorn  of  nature,  art  gave  lifeless  life: 

Many  a dry  drop  seem’d  a weeping  tear, 

Shed  for  the  slaughter’d  husband  by  the  wife; 

The  red  blood  reek’d,  to  show  the  painter’s  strife, 

And  dying  eyes  gleam’d  forth  their  ashy  lights, 

Like  dying  coals  burnt  out  in  tedious  nights. 

There  might  you  see  the  labouring  pioneer  1380 

Begrim’d  with  sweat,  and  smeared  all  with  dust; 

And  from  the  towers  of  Troy  there  would  appear 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


127 


The  very  eyes  of  men  through  loop-holes  thrust, 

Gazing  upon  the  Greeks  with  little  lust: 

Such  sweet  observance  in  this  work  was  had, 

That  one  might  see  those  far-off  eyes  look  sad. 

In  great  commanders  grace  and  majesty 
You  might  behold,  triumphing  in  their  faces  ; 

In  youth,  quick  bearing  and  dexterity ; 

And  here  and  there  the  painter  interlaces  1390 

Pale  cowards,  marching  on  with  trembling  paces, 

Which  heartless  peasants  did  so  well  resemble, 

That  one  would  swear  he  saw  them  quake  and  tremble. 

In  Ajax  and  Ulysses,  O,  what  art 
Of  physiognomy  might  one  behold  ! 

The  face  of  either  cipher’d  either’s  heart, 

Their  face  their  manners  most  expressly  told: 

In  Ajax’  eyes  blunt  rage  and  rigour  roll’d, 

But  the  mild  glance  that  sly  Ulysses  lent 
Show’d  deep  regard  and  smiling  government. 

There  pleading  might  you  see  grave  Nestor  stand, 

As ’t  were  encouraging  the  Greeks  to  fight, 

Making  such  sober  action  with  his  hand, 

That  it  beguil’d  attention,  charm’d  the  sight; 

In  speech,  it  seem’d,  his  beard,  all  silver  white, 

Wagg’d  up  and  down,  and  from  his  lips  did  fly 
Thin  winding  breath,  which  purl’d  up  to  the  sky. 

About  him  were  a press  of  gaping  faces, 

Which  seem’d  to  swallow  up  his  sound  advice ; 

All  jointly  listening,  but  with  several  graces,  1410 

As  if  some  mermaid  did  their  ears  entice, 

Some  high,  some  low,  the  painter  was  so  nice : 

The  scalps  of  many,  almost  hid  behind, 

To  jump  up  higher  seem’d,  to  mock  the  mind. 


128 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 

Here  one  man’s  hand  lean’d  on  another’s  head, 

His  nose  being  shadow’d  by  his  neighbour’s  ear; 

Here  one  being  throng’d  bears  back,  all  bollen  and  red  ; 
Another  smother’d  seems  to  pelt  and  swear ; 

And  in  their  rage  such  signs  of  rage  they  bear, 

As,  but  for  loss  of  Nestor’s  golden  words,  1420 

It  seem’d  they  would  debate  with  angry  swords. 

For  much  imaginary  work  was  there; 

Conceit  deceitful,  so  compact,  so  kind, 

That  for  Achilles’  image  stood  his  spear, 

Grip’d  in  an  armed  hand;  himself,  behind, 

Was  left  unseen,  save  to  the  eye  of  mind: 

A hand,  a foot,  a face,  a leg,  a head, 

Stood  for  the  whole  to  be  imagined. 

And  from  the  walls  of  strong-besieged  Troy 
When  their  brave  hope,  bold  Hector,  march’d  to  field, 
Stood  many  Trojan  mothers,  sharing  joy  1431 

To  see  their  youthful  sons  bright  weapons  wield  ; 

And  to  their  hope  they  such  odd  action  yield, 

That  through  their  light  joy  seemed  to  appear, 

Like  bright  things  stain’d,  a kind  of  heavy  fear. 

And  from  the  strand  of  Dardan,  where  they  fought, 

To  Simois’  reedy  banks  the  red  blood  ran, 

Whose  waves  to  imitate  the  battle  sought 
With  swelling  ridges;  and  their  ranks  began 
To  break  upon  the  galled  shore,  and  than  144c 

Retire  again,  till,  meeting  greater  ranks, 

They  join  and  shoot  their  foam  at  Simois’  banks. 

To  this  well-painted  piece  is  Lucrece  come, 

To  find  a face  where  all  distress  is  stell’d. 

Many  she  sees  where  cares  have  carved  some, 

But  none  where  all  distress  and  dolour  dwell’d, 

Till  she  despairing  Hecuba  beheld, 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


129 


Staring  on  Priam’s  wounds  with  her  old  eyes, 

Which  bleeding  under  Pyrrhus’  proud  foot  lies. 

In  her  the  painter  had  anatomiz’d  1450 

Time’s  ruin,  beauty’s  wrack,  and  grim  care’s  reign  : 

Her  cheeks  with  chaps  and  wrinkles  were  disguis’d ; 

Of  what  she  was  no  semblance  did  remain  : 

Her  blue  blood  chang’d  to  black  in  every  vein, 

Wanting  the  spring  that  those  shrunk  pipes  had  fed, 
Show’d  life  imprison’d  in  a body  dead. 

On  this  sad  shadow  Lucrece  spends  her  eyes, 

And  shapes  her  sorrow  to  the  beldam’s  woes, 

Who  nothing  wants  to  answer  her  but  cries, 

And  bitter  words  to  ban  her  cruel  foes.  1460 

The  painter  was  no  god  to  lend  her  those; 

And  therefore  Lucrece  swears  he  did  her  wrong, 

To  give  her  so  much  grief  and  not  a tongue. 

‘ Poor  instrument,’  quoth  she,  ‘ without  a sound, 

1 ’ll  tune  thy  woes  with  my  lamenting  tongue, 

And  drop  sweet  balm  in  Priam’s  painted  wound, 

And  rail  on  Pyrrhus  that  hath  done  him  wrong, 

And  with  my  tears  quench  Troy  that  burns  so  long, 
And  with  my  knife  scratch  out  the  angry  eyes 
Of  all  the  Greeks  that  are  thine  enemies.  *47° 

6 Show  me  the  strumpet  that  began  this  stir, 

That  with  my  nails  her  beauty  I may  tear. 

Thy  heat  of  lust,  fond  Paris,  did  incur 
This  load  of  wrath  that  burning  Troy  doth  bear; 

Thy  eye  kindled  the  fire  that  burneth  here ; 

And  here  in  Troy,  for  trespass  of  thine  eye, 

The  sire,  the  son,  the  dame,  and  daughter  die. 

‘Why  should  the  private  pleasure  of  some  one 
Become  the  public  plague  of  many  moe  ? 

Let  sin,  alone  committed,  light  alone 

I 


1480 


13° 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Upon  his  head  that  hath  transgressed  so ; 

Let  guiltless  souls  be  freed  from  guilty  woe: 

For  one’s  offence  why  should  so  many  fall, 

To  plague  a private  sin  in  general? 

4 Lo,  here  weeps  Hecuba,  here  Priam  dies, 

Here  manly  Hector  faints,  here  Troilus  swounds, 

Here  friend  by  friend  in  bloody  channel  lies, 

And  friend  to  friend  gives  unadvised  wounds, 

And  one  man’s  lust  these  many  lives  confounds; 

Had  doting  Priam  check’d  his  son’s  desire,  1490 

Troy  had  been  bright  with  fame  and  not  with  fire.’ 

Here  feelingly  she  weeps  Troy’s  painted  woes: 

For  sorrow,  like  a heavy-hanging  bell, 

Once  set  on  ringing,  with  his  own  weight  goes 
Then  little  strength  rings  out  the  doleful  knell. 

So  Lucrece,  set  a-work,  sad  tales  doth  tell 

To  pencill’d  pensiveness  and  colour’d  sorrow; 

She  lends  them  words,  and  she  their  looks  doth  borrow. 

She  throws  her  eyes  about  the  painting  round, 

And  who  she  finds  forlorn  she  doth  lament.  >500 

At  last  she  sees  a wretched  image  bound, 

That  piteous  looks  to  Phrygian  shepherds  lent: 

His  face,  though  full  of  cares,  yet  show’d  content; 
Onward  to  Troy  with  the  blunt  swains  he  goes, 

So  mild,  that  Patience  seem’d  to  scorn  his  woes. 

In  him  the  painter  labour’d  with  his  skill 
To  hide  deceit,  and  give  the  harmless  show 
An  humble  gait,  calm  looks,  eyes  wailing  still, 

A brow  unbent,  that  seem’d  to  welcome  woe; 

Cheeks  neither  red  nor  pale,  but  mingled  so 
That  blushing  red  no  guilty  instance  gave, 

Nor  ashy  pale  the  fear  that  false  hearts  have. 


1510 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE . 


13  1 

But,  like  a constant  and  confirmed  devil, 

He  entertain’d  a show  so  seeming  just, 

And  therein  so  ensconc’d  his  secret  evil, 

That  jealousy  itself  could  not  mistrust 
False-creeping  craft  and  perjury  should  thrust 
Into  so  bright  a day  such  black-fac’d  storms, 

Or  blot  with  hell-born  sin  such  saintlike  forms. 

The  well-skill’d  workman  this  mild  image  drew  1520 
For  perjur’d  Sinon,  whose  enchanting  story 
The  credulous  old  Priam  after  slew; 

Whose  words  like  wildfire  burnt  the  shining  glory 
Of  rich-built  Ilion,  that  the  skies  were  sorry, 

And  little  stars  shot  from  their  fixed  places, 

When  their  glass  fell  wherein  they  view’d  their  faces. 

This  picture  she  advisedly  perus’d, 

And  chid  the  painter  for  his  wondrous  skill, 

Saying,  some  shape  in  Sinon’s  was  abus’d; 

So  fair  a form  lodg’d  not  a mind  so  ill : 1530 

And  still  on  him  she  gaz’d;  and  gazing  still, 

Such  signs  of  truth  in  his  plain  face  she  spied, 

That  she  concludes  the  picture  was  belied. 

4 It  cannot  be,’  quoth  she, 4 that  so  much  guile  ’ — ■ 

She  would  have  said  4 can  lurk  in  such  a look;’ 

But  Tarquin’s  shape  came  in  her  mind  the  while, 

And  from  her  tongue  4 can  lurk’  from  4 cannot  ’ took. 

4 It  cannot  be  ’ she  in  that  sense  forsook, 

And  turn’d  it  thus, 4 It  cannot  be,  I find, 

But  such  a face  should  bear  a wicked  mind : 1540 

4 For  even  as  subtle  Sinon  here  is  painted, 

So  sober-sad,  so  weary,  and  so  mild, 

As  if  with  grief  or  travail  he  had  fainted, 

To  me  came  Tarquin  armed;  so  beguil’d 
With  outward  honesty,  but  yet  defil’d 


1 32 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


With  inward  vice:  as  Priam  him  did  cherish, 

So  did  I Tarquin  ; so  my  Troy  did  perish. 

‘ Look,  look,  how  listening  Priam  wets  his  eyes, 

To  see  those  borrow’d  tears  that  Sinon  sheds ! 

Priam,  why  art  thou  old  and  yet  not  wise  ? 155° 

For  every  tear  he  falls  a Trojan  bleeds: 

His  eye  drops  fire,  no  water  thence  proceeds; 

Those  round  clear  pearls  of  his,  that  move  thy  pity, 
Are  balls  of  quenchless  fire  to  burn  thy  city. 

6 Such  devils  steal  effects  from  lightless  hell ; 

For  Sinon  in  his  fire  doth  quake  with  cold, 

And  in  that  cold  hot-burning  fire  doth  dwell; 

These  contraries  such  unity  do  hold, 

Only  to  flatter  fools  and  make  them  bold  : 

So  Priam’s  trust  false  Sinon’s  tears  doth  flatter,  1560 
That  he  finds  means  to  burn  his  Troy  with  water.’ 

Here,  all  enrag’d,  such  passion  her  assails, 

That  patience  is  quite  beaten  from  her  breast. 

She  tears  the  senseless  Sinon  with  her  nails, 

Comparing  him  to  that  unhappy  guest 
Whose  deed  hath  made  herself  herself  detest. 

At  last  she  smilingly  with  this  gives  o’er: 

‘ Fool,  fool !’  quoth  she,  ‘ his  wounds  will  not  be  sore.’ 

Thus  ebbs  and  flows  the  current  of  her  sorrow, 

And  time  doth  weary  time  with  her  complaining.  157° 
She  looks  for  night,  and  then  she  longs  for  morrow, 

And  both  she  thinks  too  long  with  her  remaining. 

Short  time  seems  long  in  sorrow’s  sharp  sustaining. 
Though  woe  be  heavy,  yet  it  seldom  sleeps ; 

And  they  that  watch  see  time  how  slow  it  creeps. 

Which  all  this  time  hath  overslipp’d  her  thought, 

That  she  with  painted  images  hath  spent ; 

Being  from  the  feeling  of  her  own  grief  brought 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


r33 


By  deep  surmise  of  others’  detriment, 

Losing  her  woes  in  shows  of  discontent.  >5So 

It  easeth  some,  though  none  it  ever  cur’d, 

To  think  their  dolour  others  have  endur’d. 

But  now  the  mindful  messenger,  come  back, 

Brings  home  his  lord  and  other  company, 

Who  finds  his  Lucrece  clad  in  mourning  black ; 

And  round  about  her  tear-distained  eye 
Blue  circles  stream’d,  like  rainbows  in  the  sky  : 

These  water-galls  in  her  dim  element 
Foretell  new  storms  to  those  already  spent. 

Which  when  her  sad-beholding  husband  saw,  1590 

Amazedly  in  her  sad  face  he  stares; 

Her  eyes,  though  sod  in  tears,  look’d  red  and  raw, 

Her  lively  colour  kill’d  with  deadly  cares. 

He  hath  no  power  to  ask  her  how  she  fares; 

Both  stood,  like  old  acquaintance  in  a trance, 

Met  far  from  home,  wondering  each  other’s  chance. 

At  last  he  takes  her  by  the  bloodless  hand, 

And  thus  begins:  ‘What  uncouth  ill  event 
Hath  thee  befallen,  that  thou  dost  trembling  stand? 
Sweet  love,  what  spite  hath  thy  fair  colour  spent  ? 1600 

Why  art  thou  thus  attir’d  in  discontent? 

Unmask,  dear  dear,  this  moody  heaviness, 

And  tell  thy  grief,  that  we  may  give  redress.’ 

Three  times  with  sighs  she  gives  her  sorrow  fire, 

Ere  once  she  can  discharge  one  word  of  woe ; 

At  length  address’d  to  answer  his  desire, 

She  modestly  prepares  to  let  them  know 
Her  honour  is  ta’en  prisoner  by  the  foe, 

While  Collatine  and  his  consorted  lords 
With  sad  attention  long  to  hear  her  words. 


1610 


134 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


And  now  this  pale  swan  in  her  watery  nest 
Begins  the  sad  dirge  of  her  certain  ending : 

‘Few  words/  quoth  she, ‘ shall  fit  the  trespass  best, 
Where  no  excuse  can  give  the  fault  amending ; 

In  me  moe  woes  than  words  are  now  depending, 

And  my  laments  would  be  drawn  out  too  long. 

To  tell  them  all  with  one  poor  tired  tongue. 

* Then  be  this  all  the  task  it  hath  to  say : 

Dear  husband,  in  the  interest  of  thy  bed 
A stranger  came,  and  on  that  pillow  lay  1620 

Where  thou  wast  wont  to  rest  thy  weary  head; 

And  what  wrong  else  may  be  imagined 
By  foul  enforcement  might  be  done  to  me. 

From  that,  alas,  thy  Lucrece  is  not  free. 

‘For  in  the  dreadful  dead  of  dark  midnight. 

With  shining  falchion  in  my  chamber  came 
A creeping  creature,  with  a flaming  light, 

And  softly  cried  “Awake,  thou  Roman  dame, 

And  entertain  my  love  ; else  lasting  shame 

On  thee  and  thine  this  night  I will  inflict,  1630 

If  thou  my  love’s  desire  do  contradict. 

‘“For  some  hard-favour’d  groom  of  thine/’  quoth  he, 

“ Unless  thou  yoke  thy  liking  to  my  will, 

I ’ll  murther  straight,  and  then  I ’ll  slaughter  thee 
And  swear  I found  you  where  you  did  fulfil 
The  loathsome  act  of  lust,  and  so  did  kill 
The  lechers  in  their  deed;  this  act  will  be 
My  fame  and  thy  perpetual  infamy.” 

‘ With  this,  I did  begin  to  start  and  cry ; 

And  then  against  my  heart  he  sets  his  sword,  1640 

Swearing,  unless  I took  all  patiently, 

I should  not  live  to  speak  another  word ; 

So  should  my  shame  still  rest  upon  record, 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


I3S 


And  never  be  forgot  in  mighty  Rome 

The  adulterate  death  of  Lucrece  and  her  groom. 

‘ Mine  enemy  was  strong,  my  poor  self  weak, 

And  far  the  weaker  with  so  strong  a fear : 

My  bloody  judge  forbade  my  tongue  to  speak  ; 

No  rightful  plea  might  plead  for  justice  there  : 

His  scarlet  lust  came  evidence  to  swear  1650 

That  my  poor  beauty  had  purloin’d  his  eyes; 

And  when  the  judge  is  robb’d  the  prisoner  dies. 

‘ O,  teach  me  how  to  make  mine  own  excuse  ! 

Or  at  the  least  this  refuge  let  me  find : 

Though  my  gross  blood  be  stain’d  with  this  abuse, 
Immaculate  and  spotless  is  my  mind  ; 

That  was  not  forc’d  ; that  never  was  inclin’d 
To  accessary  yieldings,  but  still  pure 
Doth  in  her  poison’d  closet  yet  endure.’ 

Lo,  here,  the  hopeless  merchant  of  this  loss,  1660 

With  head  declin’d,  and  voice  damm’d  up  with  woe. 
With  sad-set  eyes,  and  wretched  arms  across, 

From  lips  new-waxen  pale  begins  to  blow 
The  grief  away  that  stops  his  answer  so  : 

But,  wretched  as  he  is,  he  strives  in  vain ; 

What  he  breathes  out  his  breath  drinks  up  again. 

As  through  an  arch  the  violent  roaring  tide 
Outruns  the  eye  that  doth  behold  his  haste, 

Yet  in  the  eddy  boundeth  in  his  pride 

Back  to  the  strait  that  forc’d  him  on  so  fast,  1670 

In  rage  sent  out, recall’d  in  rage,  being  past; 

Even  so  his  sighs,  his  sorrows,  make  a saw, 

To  push  grief  on,  and  back  the  same  grief  draw. 

Which  speechless  woe  of  his  poor  she  attendeth, 

And  his  untimely  frenzy  thus  awaketh  : 

‘Dear  lord,  thy  sorrow  to  my  sorrow  lendeth 


136 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


Another  power;  no  flood  by  raining  slaketh. 

My  woe  too  sensible  thy  passion  maketh 
More  feeling-painful ; let  it  then  suffice 
To  drown  one  woe^one  pair  of  weeping  eyes.  1680 

4 And  for  my  sake,  when  I might  charm  thee  so, 

For  she  that  was  thy  Lucrece,  now  attend  me: 

Be  suddenly  revenged  on  my  foe, 

Thine,  mine,  his  own  ; suppose  thou  dost  defend  me 
From  what  is  past : the  help  that  thou  shalt  lend  me 
Comes  all  too  late,  yet  let  the  traitor  die, 

For  sparing  justice  feeds  iniquity. 

4 But  ere  I name  him,  you  fair  lords/  quoth  she, 
Speaking  to  those  that  came  with  Collatine, 

4 Shall  plight  your  honourable  faiths  to  me,  1690 

With  swift  pursuit  to  venge  this  wrong  of  mine ; 

For ’t  is  a meritorious  fair  design 

To  chase  injustice  with  revengeful  arms: 

Knights,  by  their  oaths,  should  right  poor  ladies’ 
harms.’ 

At  this  request,  with  noble  disposition 
Each  present  lord  began  to  promise  aid, 

As  bound  in  knighthood  to  her  imposition, 

Longing  to  hear  the  hateful  foe  bewray’d. 

But  she,  that  yet  her  sad  task  hath  not  said, 

The  protestation  stops.  4 O,  speak,’  quoth  she,  1700 
4 How  may  this  forced  stain  be  wip’d  from  me? 

4 What  is  the  quality  of  mine  offence, 

Being  constrain’d  with  dreadful  circumstance  ? 

May  my  pure  mind  with  the  foul  act  dispense, 

My  low-declined  honour  to  advance  ? 

May  any  terms  acquit  me  from  this  chance? 

The  poison’d  fountain  clears  itself  again  ; 

And  why  not  I from  this  compelled  stain?’ 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


*37 


With  this,  they  all  at  once  began  to  say, 

Her  body’s  stain  her  mind  untainted  clears;  1710 

While  with  a joyless  smile  she  turns  away 
The  face,  that  map  which  deep  impression  bears 
Of  hard  misfortune,  carv’d  in  it  with  tears. 

4 No,  no,’  quoth  she,  4 no  dame,  hereafter  living, 

By  my  excuse  shall  claim  excuse’s  giving.’ 

Here  with  a sigh,  as  if  her  heart  would  break, 

She  throws  forth  Tarquin’s  name:  4 He,  he,’  she  says, 
But  more  than  4 he  ’ her  poor  tongue  could  not  speak; 
Till  after  many  accents  and  delays, 

Untimely  breathings,  sick  and  short  assays,  1720 

She  utters  this,  4 He,  he,  fair  lords,  ’t  is  he, 

That  guides  this  hand  to  give  this  wound  to  me.3 

Even  here  she  sheathed  in  her  harmless  breast 
A harmful  knife,  that  thence  her  soul  unsheath’d: 

That  blow  did  bail  it  from  the  deep  unrest 
Of  that  polluted  prison  where  it  breath’d  : 

Her  contrite  sighs  unto  the  clouds  bequeath’d 

Her  winged  sprite,  and  through  her  wounds  doth  fly 
Life’s  lasting  date  from  cancell’d  destiny. 

Stone-still,  astonish’d  with  this  deadly  deed,  1730 

Stood  Collatine  and  all  his  lordly  crew  ; 

Till  Lucrece’  father,  that  beholds  her  bleed, 

Himself  on  her  self-slaughter’d  body  threw  ; 

And  from  the  purple  fountain  Brutus  drew 
The  murtherous  knife,  and,  as  it  left  the  place, 

Her  blood,  in  poor  revenge,  held  it  in  chase; 

And  bubbling  from  her  breast,  it  doth  divide 
In  two  slow  rivers,  that  the  crimson  blood 
Circles  her  body  in  on  every  side, 

Who,  like  a late-sack’d  island,  vastly  stood 
Bare  and  unpeopled  in  this  fearful  flood. 


1740 


138 


SHAKESPEARE  S POEMS. 

Some  of  her  blood  still  pure  and  red  remain’d, 

And  some  look’d  black,  and  that  false  Tarquin  stain’d. 

About  the  mourning  and  congealed  face 
Of  that  black  blood  a watery  rigol  goes, 

Which  seems  to  weep  upon  the  tainted  place : 

And  ever  since,  as  pitying  Lucrece’  woes, 

Corrupted  blood  some  watery  token  shows ; 

And  blood  untainted  still  doth  red  abide, 

Blushing  at  that  which  is  so  putrefied.  175° 

‘ Daughter,  dear  daughter,’  old  Lucretius  cries, 

‘That  life  was  mine  which  thou  hast  here  depriv’d. 

If  in  the  child  the  father’s  image  lies, 

Where  shall  I live  now  Lucrece  is  unliv’d  ? 

Thou  wast  not  to  this  end  from  me  deriv’d. 

If  children  pre-decease  progenitors, 

We  are  their  offspring,  and  they  none  of  ours. 

‘ Poor  broken  glass,  I often  did  behold 

In  thy  sweet  semblance  my  old  age  new  born  ; 

But  now  that  fair  fresh  mirror,  dim  and  old,  176° 

Shows  me  a bare-bon’d  death  by  time  outworn : 

O,  from  thy  cheeks  my  image  thou  hast  torn, 

And  shiver’d  all  the  beauty  of  my  glass, 

That  I no  more  can  see  what  once  I was ! 

‘ O time,  cease  thou  thy  course  and  last  no  longer, 

If  they  surcease  to  be  that  should  survive. 

Shall  rotten  death  make  conquest  of  the  stronger 
And  leave  the  faltering  feeble  souls  alive  ? 

The  old  bees  die,  the  young  possess  their  hive  ; 

Then  live,  sweet  Lucrece,  live  again  and  see  <770 
Thy  father  die,  and  not  thy  father  thee  !’ 

By  this,  starts  Collatine  as  from  a dream, 

And  bids  Lucretius  give  his  sorrow  place ; 

And  then  in  key-cold  Lucrece’  bleeding  stream 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE . 


*39 


He  falls,  and  bathes  the  pale  fear  in  his  face, 

And  counterfeits  to  die  with  her  a space, 

Till  manly  shame  bids  him  possess  his  breath 
And  live  to  be  revenged  on  her  death. 

The  deep  vexation  of  his  inward  soul 

Hath  serv’d  a dumb  arrest  upon  his  tongue,  1780 

Who,  mad  that  sorrow  should  his  use  control, 

Or  keep  him  from  heart-easing  words  so  long, 

Begins  to  talk;  but  through  his  lips  do  throng 

Weak  words,  so  thick  come  in  his  poor  heart’s  aid, 
That  no  man  could  distinguish  what  he  said. 

Yet  sometime  ‘Tarquin  ’ was  pronounced  plain, 

But  through  his  teeth,  as  if  the  name  he  tore. 

This  windy  tempest,  till  it  blow  up  rain, 

Held  back  his  sorrow’s  tide,  to  make  it  more ; 

At  last  it  rains,  and  busy  winds  give  o’er:  i79o 

Then  son  and  father  weep  with  equal  strife 
Who  should  weep  most,  for  daughter  or  for  wife. 

The  one  doth  call  her  his,  the  other  his, 

Yet  neither  may  possess  the  claim  they  lay. 

The  father  says  4 She ’s  mine.’  4 O,  mine  she  is,’ 
Replies  her  husband  : 4 do  not  take  away 
My  sorrow’s  interest;  let  no  mourner  say 
He  weeps  for  her,  for  she  was  only  mine. 

And  only  must  be  wail’d  by  Collatine.’ 

£ O,’  quoth  Lucretius, 4 1 did  give  that  life  1800 

Which  she  too  early  and  too  late  hath  spill’d.’ 

4 Woe,  woe,’  quoth  Collatine,  ‘she  was  my  wife, 

I owed  her,  and  ’t  is  mine  that  she  hath  kill’d.’ 

4 My  daughter  ’ and  4 my  wife  ’ with  clamours  fill’d 
The  dispers’d  air,  who,  holding  Lucrece’  life, 
Answer’d  their  cries, 4 my  daughter  ’ and  4 my  wife.’ 


Brutus,  who  pluck’d  the  knife  from  Lucrece’  side, 
Seeing  such  emulation  in  their  woe, 

Began  to  clothe  his  wit  in  state  and  pride, 

Burying  in  Lucrece’  wound  his  folly’s  show.  1810 

He  with  the  Romans  was  esteemed  so 
As  silly-jeering  idiots  are  with  kings, 

For  sportive  words  and  uttering  foolish  things; 

But  now  he  throws  that  shallow  habit  bv, 

Wherein  deep  policy  did  him  disguise, 

And  arm’d  his  long-hid  wits  advisedly, 

To  check  the  tears  in  Collatinus’  eyes. 

‘ Thou  wronged  lord  of  Rome,’  quoth  he, ‘arise; 

Let  my  unsounded  self,  suppos’d  a fool, 

Now  set  thy  long-experienc’d  wit  to  school.  1820 


t a*.  1 


‘Why,  Collatine,  is  woe  the  cure  for  woe? 

Do  wounds  help  wounds,  or  grief  help  grievous  deeds? 

Is  it  revenge  to  give  thyself  a blow 

For  his  foul  act  by  whom  thy  fair  wife  bleeds? 

Such  childish  humour  from  weak  minds  proceeds; 

Thy  wretched  wife  mistook  the  matter  so, 

To  slay  herself,  that  should  have  slain  her  foe. 

‘Courageous  Roman,  do  not  steep  thy  heart 
In  such  relenting  dew  of  lamentations; 

But  kneel  with  me  and  help  to  bear  thy  part,  1830 

To  rouse  our  Roman  gods  with  invocations, 

That  they  will  suffer  these  abominations, 

Since  Rome  herself  in  them  doth  stand  disgrac’d, 

By  our  strong  arms  from  forth  her  fair  streets  chas’d. 


( 


‘Now,  by  the  Capitol  that  we  adore, 

And  by  this  chaste  blood  so  unjustly  stain’d, 

By  heaven’s  fair  sun  that  breeds  the  fat  earth’s  store, 
By  all  our  country  rights  in  Rome  maintain’d, 

And  by  chaste  Lucrece’  soul  that  late  complain’d 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


141 


( 


Her  wrongs  to  us,  and  by  this  bloody  knife, 
We  will  revenge  the  death  of  this  true  wife/ 


This  said,  he  struck  his  hand  upon  his  breast, 
And  kiss’d  the  fatal  knife,  to  end  his  vow; 

And  to  his  protestation  urg’d  the  rest, 

Who,  wondering  at  him,  did  his  words  allow: 
Then  jointly  to  the  ground  their  knees  they  bow; 
And  that  deep  vow,  which  Brutus  made  before, 
He  doth  again  repeat,  and  that  they  swore. 


When  they  had  sworn  to  this  advised  doom, 
They  did  conclude  to  bear  dead  Lucrece  thence, 
To  show  her  bleeding  body  thorough  Rome, 

And  so  to  publish  Tarquin’s  foul  offence; 

Which  being  done  with  speedy  diligence, 

The  Romans  plausibly  did  give  consent 
To  Tarquin’s  everlasting  banishment. 


1840 


1850 


,w  n&Cf 


From  off  a hill  whose  concave  womb  re-worded 
A plaintful  story  from  a sistering  vale, 

My  spirits  to  attend  this  double  voice  accorded, 
And  down  I laid  to  list  the  sad-tun’d  tale; 

Ere  long  espied  a fickle  maid  full  pale, 

Tearing  of  papers,  breaking  rings  a-twain, 
Storming  her  world  with  sorrow’s  wind  and  rain. 

Upon  her  head  a platted  hive  of  straw, 

Which  fortified  her  visage  from  the  sun, 

Whereon  the  thought  might  think  sometime  it  saw 
K 


146 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


The  carcass  of  a beauty  spent  and  done; 

Time  had  not  scythed  all  that  youth  begun, 

Nor  youth  all  quit,  but,  spite  of  heaven’s  fell  rage, 
Some  beauty  peep’d  through  lattice  of  sear’d  age. 

Oft  did  she  heave  her  napkin  to  her  eyne, 

Which  on  it  had  conceited  characters, 

Laundering  the  silken  figures  in  the  brine 
That  season’d  woe  had  pelleted  in  tears, 

And  often  reading  what  contents  it  bears  ; 

As  often  shrieking  undistinguish’d  woe, 

In  clamours  of  all  size,  both  high  and  low. 

Sometimes  her  levell’d  eyes  their  carriage  ride, 

As  they  did  battery  to  the  spheres  intend  ; 
Sometime  diverted  their  poor  balls  are  tied 
To  the  orbed  earth  ; sometimes  they  do  extend 
Their  view  right  on  ; anon  their  gazes  lend 
To  every  place  at  once,  and,  nowhere  fix’d, 

The  mind  and  sight  distractedly  commix’d. 

Her  hair,  nor  loose  nor  tied  in  formal  plat, 
Proclaim’d  in  her  a careless  hand  of  pride, 

For  some,  untuck’d,  descended  her  sheav’d  hat, 
Hanging  her  pale  and  pined  cheek  beside ; 

Some  in  her  threaden  fillet  still  did  bide, 

And  true  to  bondage  would  not  break  from  thence, 
Though  slackly  braided  in  loose  negligence. 

A thousand  favours  from  a maund  she  drew 
Of  amber,  crystal,  and  of  beaded  jet, 

Which  one  by  one  she  in  a river  threw, 

Upon  whose  weeping  m argent  she  was  set; 

Like  usury,  applying  wet  to  wet, 

Or  monarch’s  hands  that  let  not  bounty  fall 
Where  want  cries  some,  but  where  excess  begs  all. 


A LOVER'S  COMPLAINT. 


147 


Of  folded  schedules  had  she  many  a one, 

Which  she  perus’d,  sigh’d,  tore,  and  gave  the  flood  ; 
Crack’d  many  a ring  of  posied  gold  and  bone, 

Bidding  them  find  their  sepulchres  in  mud  ; 

Found  yet  moe  letters  sadly  penn’d  in  blood, 

With  sleided  silk  feat  and  affectedly 
Enswath’d,  and  seal’d  to  curious  secrecy. 

These  often  bath’d  she  in  her  fluxive  eyes,  50 

And  often  kiss’d,  and  often  gan  to  tear: 

Cried  ‘ O false  blood,  thou  register  of  lies, 

What  unapproved  witness  dost  thou  bear ! 

Ink  would  have  seem’d  more  black  and  damned  here !’ 
This  said,  in  top  of  rage  the  lines  she  rents, 

Big  discontent  so  breaking  their  contents. 

A reverend  man  that  graz’d  his  cattle  nigh  — 

Sometime  a blusterer,  that  the  ruffle  knew 
Of  court,  of  city,  and  had  let  go  by 

The  swiftest  hours,  observed  as  they  flew  — 60 

Towards  this  afflicted  fancy  fastly  drew, 

And,  privileg’d  by  age,  desires  to  know 
In  brief  the  grounds  and  motives  of  her  woe. 

So  slides  he  down  upon  his  grained  bat, 

And  comely-distant  sits  he  by  her  side, 

When  he  again  desires  her,  being  sat, 

Her  grievance  with  his  hearing  to  divide  ; 

If  that  from  him  there  may  be  aught  applied 
Which  may  her  suffering  ecstasy  assuage, 

’T  is  promis’d  in  the  charity  of  age.  70 

4 Father,’  she  says, c though  in  me  you  behold 
The  injury  of  many  a blasting  hour, 

Let  it  not  tell  your  judgment  I am  old  ; 

Not  age,  but  sorrow,  over  me  hath  power: 

I might  as  yet  have  been  a spreading  flower, 


SHAKESPEARE’S  POEMS. 


Fresh  to  myself,  if  I had  self-applied 
Love  to  myself  and  to  no  love  beside. 

4 But,  woe  is  me!  too  early  I attended 
A youthful  suit — it  was  to  gain  my  grace — 

Of  one  by  nature’s  outwards  so  commended. 

That  maidens’  eyes  stuck  over  all  his  face ; 

Love  lack’d  a dwelling  and  made  him  her  place. 
And  when  in  his  fair  parts  she  did  abide, 

She  was  new  lodg’d  and  newly  deified. 

4 His  browny  locks  did  hang  in  crooked  curls, 

And  every  light  occasion  of  the  wind 
Upon  his  lips  their  silken  parcels  hurls. 

What ’s  sweet  to  do,  to  do  will  aptly  find ; 

Each  eye  that  saw  him  did  enchant  the  mind, 

For  on  his  visage  was  in  little  drawn 
What  largeness  thinks  in  Paradise  was  sawn. 

i Small  show  of  man  was  yet  upon  his  chin; 

His  phoenix  down  began  but  to  appear 
Like  unshorn  velvet  on  that  termless  skin 
Whose  bare  out-bragg’d  the  web  it  seem’d  to  wear 
Yet  show’d  his  visage  by  that  cost  more  dear, 

And  nice  affections  wavering  stood  in  doubt 
If  best  were  as  it  was,  or  best  without. 

‘ His  qualities  were  beauteous  as  his  form, 

For  maiden-tongued  he  was,  and  thereof  free; 

Yet,  if  men  mov’d  him,  was  he  such  a storm 
As  oft  ’twixt  May  and  April  is  to  see, 

When  winds  breathe  sweet,  unruly  though  they  be. 
His  rudeness  so  with  his  authoriz’d  youth 
Did  livery  falseness  in  a pride  of  truth. 

4 Well  could  he  ride,  and  often  men  would  say 
“That  horse  his  mettle  from  his  rider  takes; 

Proud  of  subjection,  noble  by  the  sway, 


A LOVER'S  COMPLAINT. 


149 


What  rounds,  what  bounds,  what  course,  what  stop  he 
makes !” 

And  controversy  hence  a question  takes,  110 

Whether  the  horse  by  him  became  his  deed, 

Or  he  his  manage  by  the  well-doing  steed. 

‘ But  quickly  on  this  side  the  verdict  went  : 

His  real  habitude  gave  life  and  grace 
To  appertainings  and  to  ornament, 

Accomplish’d  in  himself,  not  in  his  case. 

All  aids,  themselves  made  fairer  by  their  place, 

Came  for  additions;  yet  their  purpos’d  trim 
Piec’d  not  his  grace,  but  were  all  grac’d  by  him. 

‘ So  on  the  tip  of  his  subduing  tongue  120 

All  kind  of  arguments  and  question  deep, 

All  replication  prompt  and  reason  strong, 

For  his  advantage  still  did  wake  and  sleep: 

To  make  the  weeper  laugh,  the  laugher  weep, 

He  had  the  dialect  and  different  skill, 

Catching  all  passions  in  his  craft  of  will ; 

‘That  he  did  in  the  general  bosom  reign 
Of  young,  of  old,  and  sexes  both  enchanted, 

To  dwell  with  him  in  thoughts,  or  to  remain 
In  personal  duty,  following  where  he  haunted  : 13° 

Consents  bewitch’d,  ere  he  desire,  have  granted, 

And  dialogued  for  him  what  he  would  say, 

Ask’d  their  own  wills,  and  made  their  wills  obey. 

‘ Many  there  were  that  did  his  picture  get, 

To  serve  their  eyes,  and  in  it  put  their  mind; 

Like  fools  that  in  the  imagination  set 

The  goodly  objects  which  abroad  they  find 

Of  lands  and  mansions,  theirs  in  thought  assign’d, 

And  labouring  in  moe  pleasures  to  bestow  them 
Than  the  true  gouty  landlord  which  doth  owe  them : uq 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 

* So  many  have,  that  never  touch’d  his  hand, 
Sweetly  suppos’d  them  mistress  of  his  heart. 

My  woeful  self,  that  did  in  freedom  stand, 

And  was  my  own  fee-simple,  not  in  part, 

What  with  his  art  in  youth,  and  youth  in  art, 
Threw  my  affections  in  his  charmed  power, 
Reserv’d  the  stalk  and  gave  him  all  my  flower. 

6 Yet  did  I not,  as  some  my  equals  did, 

Demand  of  him,  nor  being  desired  yielded; 
Finding  myself  in  honour  so  forbid, 

With  safest  distance  I mine  honour  shielded: 
Experience  for  me  many  bulwarks  budded 
Of  proofs  new-bleeding,  which  remain’d  the  foil 
Of  this  false  jewel,  and  his  amorous  spoil. 

4 But,  ah,  who  ever  shunn’d  by  precedent 
The  destin’d  ill  she  must  herself  assay? 

Or  forc’d  examples,  ’gainst  her  own  content, 

To  put  the  by-past  perils  in  her  way? 

Counsel  may  stop  awhile  what  will  not  stay ; 

For  when  we  rage,  advice  is  often  seen 
By  blunting  us  to  make  our  wits  more  keen. 

4 Nor  gives  it  satisfaction  to  our  blood, 

That  we  must  curb  it  upon  others’  proof ; 

To  be  forbod  the  sweets  that  seem  so  good, 

For  fear  of  harms  that  preach  in  our  behoof. 

O appetite,  from  judgment  stand  aloof! 

The  one  a palate  hath  that  needs  will  taste, 
Though  Reason  weep,  and  cry  44  It  is  thy  last.” 

4 For  further  I could  say  44  This  man ’s  untrue,” 
And  knew  the  patterns  of  his  foul  beguiling, 
Heard  where  his  plants  in  others’  orchards  grew, 
Saw  how  deceits  were  gilded  in  his  smiling, 
Knew  vows  were  ever  brokers, to  defiling, 


A LOVER'S  COMPLAINT \ 


IS1 

Thought  characters  and  words  merely  but  art* 

And  bastards  of  his  foul  adulterate  heart. 

4 And  long  upon  these  terms  I held  my  city, 

Till  thus  he  gan  besiege  me 44  Gentle  maid, 

Have  of  my  suffering  youth  some  feeling  pity, 

And  be  not  of  my  holy  vows  afraid  : 

That ’s  to  ye  sworn  to  none  was  ever  said  ; 

For  feasts  of  love  I have  been  call’d  unto, 

Till  now  did  ne’er  invite,  nor  never  woo. 

4 44  All  my  offences  that  abroad  you  see 
Are  errors  of  the  blood,  none  of  the  mind  ; 

Love  made  them  not:  with  acture  they  may  be, 

Where  neither  party  is  nor  true  nor  kind. 

They  sought  their  shame  that  so  their  shame  did  find; 
And  so  much  less  of  shame  in  me  remains, 

By  how  much  of  me  their  reproach  contains. 

4 44  Among  the  many  that  mine  eyes  have  seen,  190 

Not  one  whose  flame  my  heart  so  much  as  warm’d, 

Or  my  affection  put  to  the  smallest  teen, 

Or  any  of  my  leisures  ever  charm’d  ; 

Harm  have  I done  to  them  but  ne’er  was  harm’d  ; 

Kept  hearts  in  liveries  but  mine  own  was  free, 

And  reign’d,  commanding  in  his  monarchy. 

4 44  Look  here,  what  tributes  wounded  fancies  sent  me, 
Of  paled  pearls  and  rubies  red  as.  blood  ; 

Figuring  that  they  their  passions  likewise  lent  me 
Of  grief  and  blushes,  aptly  understood  *200 

In  bloodless  white  and  the  encrimson’d  mood  ; 

Effects  of  terror  and  dear  modesty, 

Encamp’d  in  hearts,  but  fighting  outwardly. 

4 44  And,  lo,  behold  these  talents  of  their  hair, 

With  twisted  metal  amorously  impleach’d, 

I have  receiv’d  from  many  a several  fair, 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 


*52 

Their  kind  acceptance  weepingly  beseech’d, 

With  the  annexions  of  fair  gems  enrich’d, 

And  deep-brain’d  sonnets  that  did  amplify 

Each  stone’s  dear  nature,  worth,  and  quality.  210 

‘ “ The  diamond,— why,  ’t  was  beautiful  and  hard, 
Whereto  his  invis’d  properties  did  tend  ; 

The  deep-green  emerald,  in  whose  fresh  regard 
Weak  sights  their  sickly  radiance  do  amend  ; 

The  heaven-hued  sapphire  and  the  opal  blend 
With  objects  manifold  : each  several  stone, 

With  wit  well  blazon’d,  smil’d  or  made  some  moan. 

4 “ Lo,  all  these  trophies  of  affections  hot, 

Of  pensiv’d  and  subdued  desires  the  tender, 

Nature  hath  charg’d  me  that  I hoard  them  not,  220 
But  yield  them  up  where  I myself  must  render, 

That  is,  to  you,  my  origin  and  ender ; 

For  these,  of  force,  must  your  oblations  be, 

Since  I their  altar,  you  enpatron  me. 

4 44  O,  then,  advance  of  yours  that  phraseless  hand, 
Whose  white  weighs  down  the  airy  scale  of  praise; 
Take  all  these  similes  to  your  own  command, 

Hallow’d  with  sighs  that  burning  lungs  did  raise  : 

What  me  your  minister,  for  you  obeys, 

Works  under  you;  and  to  your  audit  comes  230 

Their  distract  parcels  in  combined  sums. 

4 44  Lo,  this  device  was  sent  me  from  a nun, 

A sister  sanctified,  of  holiest  note, 

Which  late  her  noble  suit  in  court  did  shun, 

Whose  rarest  havings  made  the  blossoms  dote ; 

For  she  was  sought  by  spirits  of  richest  coat, 

But  kept  cold  distance,  and  did  thence  remove, 

To  spend  her  living  in  eternal  love. 


A LOVER'S  COMPLAINT, \ 


T53 


( “ But,  O my  sweet,  what  labour  is ’t  to  leave 

The  thing  we  have  not,  mastering  what  not  strives,  240 

Paling  the  place  which  did  no  form  receive, 

Playing  patient  sports  in  unconstrained  gyves? 

She  that  her  fame  so  to  herself  contrives, 

The  scars  of  battle  scapeth  by  the  flight, 

And  makes  her  absence  valiant,  not  her  might. 

‘ “ O,  pardon  me,  in  that  my  boast  is  true; 

The  accident  which  brought  me  to  her  eye 
Upon  the  moment  did  her  force  subdue, 

And  now  she  would  the  caged  cloister  fly: 

Religious  love  put  out  Religion’s  eye;  250 

Not  to  be  tempted,  would  she  be  immur’d, 

And  now,  to  tempt,  all  liberty  procur’d. 
iU  How  mighty  then  you  are,  O,  hear  me  tell ! 

The  broken  bosoms  that  to  me  belong 
Have  emptied  all  their  fountains  in  my  well, 

And  mine  I pour  your  ocean  all  among ; 

I strong  o’er  them,  and  you  o’er  me  being  strong, 

Must  for  your  victory  us  all  congest, 

As  compound  love  to  physic  your  cold  breast. 

‘ “ My  parts  had  power  to  charm  a sacred  nun,  260 
Who,  disciplin’d,  ay,  dieted  in  grace, 

Believ’d  her  eyes  when  they  to  assail  begun, 

All  v.ows  and  consecrations  giving  place; 

O most  potential  love  ! vow,  bond,  nor  space, 

In  thee  hath  neither  sting,  knot,  nor  confine, 

For  thou  art  all,  and  all  things  else  are  thine. 

‘ “ When  thou  impressest,  what  are  precepts  worth 
Of  stale  example  ? When  thou  wilt  inflame, 

How  coldly  those  impediments  stand  forth 
Of  wealth,  of  filial  fear,  law,  kindred,  fame  ! 270 

Love’s  arms  are  proof,  ’gainst  rule,  ’gainst  sense,  ’gainst 
shame, 


SI/A KESPEA  RE'S  POEMS. 


rS4 

And  sweetens,  in  the  suffering  pangs  it  bears, 

The  aloes  of  all  forces,  shocks,  and  fears. 

Now  all  these  hearts  that  do  on  mine  depend, 
Feeling  it  break,  with  bleeding  groans  they  pine  ; 
And  supplicant  their  sighs  to  you  extend, 

To  leave  the  battery  that  you  make  'gainst  mine, 
Lending  soft  audience  to  my  sweet  design, 

And  credent  soul  to  that  strong-bonded  oath 
That  shall  prefer  and  undertake  my  troth." 

4 This  said,  his  watery  eyes  he  did  dismount, 

Whose  sights  till  then  were  levell’d  on  my  face; 
Each  cheek  a river  running  from  a fount 
With  brinish  current  downward  flow’d  apace  : 

O,  how  the  channel  to  the  stream  gave  grace ! 

Who  glaz’d  with  crystal  gate  the  glowing  roses 
That  flame  through  water  which  their  hue  encloses. 

‘ O father,  what  a hell  of  witchcraft  lies 
In  the  small  orb  of  one  particular  tear! 

But  with  the  inundation  of  the  eyes 
What  rocky  heart  to  water  will  not  wear? 

What  breast  so  cold  that  is  not  warmed  here? 

O cleft  effect ! cold  modesty,  hot  wrath, 

Both  fire  from  hence  and  chill  extincture  hath. 

‘ For,  lo,  his  passion,  but  an  art  of  craft, 

Even  there  resolv’d  my: reason  into  tears; 

There  my  white  stole  of  chastity  I daff’d, 

Shook  off  my  sober  guards  and  civil  fears  ; 

Appear  to  him,  as  he  to  me  appears, 

All  melting;  though  our  drops  this  difference  bore, 
His  poison’d  me,  and  mine  did  him  restore. 

‘In  him  a plenitude  of  subtle  matter, 

Applied  to  cautels,  all  strange  forms  receives, 

Of  burning  blushes,  or  of  weeping  water, 


A LOVER'S  COMPLAINT. 


*55 


Or  swooning  paleness ; and  he  takes  and  leaves, 

In  either’s  aptness,  as  it  best  deceives, 

To  blush  at  speeches  rank,  to  weep  at  woes, 

Or  to  turn  white  and  swoon  at  tragic  shows  : 

4 That  n6t  a heart  which  in  his  level  came 

Could  s<^ape  the  hail  of  his  all-hurting  aim,  310 

Showing  fair  nature  is  both  kind  and  tame, 

And,  veil’d  in  them,  did  win  whom  he  would  maim  : 
Against  the  thing  he  sought  he  would  exclaim; 

When  he  most  burn’d  in  heart- wish’d  luxury, 

He  preach’d  pure  maid  and  prais’d  cold  chastity. 

‘Thus  merely  with  the  garment  of  a Grace 
The  naked  and  concealed  fiend  he  cover’d  ; 

That  the  unexperient  gave  the  tempter  place, 

Which  like  a cherubin  above  them  hover’d. 

Who,  young  and  simple,  would  not  be  so  lover’d  ? 32c 

Ay  me  ! I fell  ; and  yet  do  question  make 
What  I should  do  again  for  such  a sake. 

‘O,  that  infected  moisture  of  his  eye, 

O,  that  false  fire  which  in  his  cheek  so  glow’d, 

O,  that  forc’d  thunder  from  his  heart  did  fly, 

O,  that  sad  breath  his  spongy  lungs  bestow’d, 

O,  all  that  borrow’d  motion  seeming  owed, 

Would  yet  again  betray  the  fore-betray’d, 

And  new  pervert  a reconciled  maid  1’ 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM. 

I. 

Sweet  Cytherea,  sitting  by  a brook 
With  young  Adonis,  lovely,  fresh,  and  green, 

Did  court  the  lad  with  many  a lovely  look, 

Such  looks  as  none  could  look  but  beauty’s  queen. 

She  told  him  stories  to  delight  his  ear; 

She  show’d  him  favours  to  allure  his  eye  ; 

To  win  his  heart,  she  touch’d  him  here  and  there,— 
Touches  so  soft  still  conquer  chastity. 

But  whether  unripe  years  did  want  conceit, 

Or  he  refus’d  to  take  her  figur’d  proffer,  10 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM, 


The  tender  nibbler  would  not  touch  the  bait, 

But  smile  and  jest  at  every  gentle  offer: 

Then  fell  she  on  her  back,  fair  queen,  and  toward 
He  rose  and  ran  away — ah,  fool  too  froward  ! 

II. 

Scarce  had  the  sun  dried  up  the  dewy  morn, 

And  scarce  the  herd  gone  to  the  hedge  for  shade, 
When  Cytherea,  all  in  love  forlorn, 

A longing  tarriance  for  Adonis  made 
Under  an  osier  growing  by  a brook, 

A brook  where  Adon  us’d  to  cool  his  spleen  : 

Hot  was  the  day;  she  hotter  that  did. look 
For  his  approach,  that  often  there  had  been. 

Anon  he  comes,  and  throws  his  mantle  by, 

And  stood  stark  naked  on  the  brook’s  green  brim  ; 
The  sun  look’d  on  the  world  with  glorious  eye, 

Yet  not  so  wistly  as  this  queen  on  him. 

He,  spying  her,  bounc’d  in,  whereas  he  stood  ; 

‘ O Jove,’  quoth  she, 4 why  was  not  I a flood  !’ 

III. 

Fair  was  the  morn  when  the  fair  queen  of  love, 

* # * # * 

Paler  for  sorrow  than  her  milk-white  dove, 

For  Adon’s  sake,  a youngster  proud  and  wild. 

Her  stand  she  takes  upon  a steep-up  hill: 

Anon  Adonis  comes  with  horn  and  hounds  ; 

She,  silly  queen,  with  more  than  love’s  good  will, 
Forbade  the  boy  he  should  not  pass  those  grounds. 
‘Once,’  quoth  she,  ‘did  I see  a fair  sweet  youth 
Here  in  these  brakes  deep-wounded  with  a boar, 
Deep  in  the  thigh,  a spectacle  of  ruth  ! 

See,  in  my  thigh,’  quoth  she,  ‘ here  was  the  sore.’ 
She  showed  hers ; he  saw  more  wounds  than  one, 
And  blushing  fled,  and  left  her  all  alone. 


153 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


IV. 

Fair  is  my  love,  but  not  so  fair  as  fickle  ; 

Mild  as  a dove,  but  neither  true  nor  trusty ; 

Brighter  than  glass,  and  yet,  as  glass  is,  brittle  ; 

Softer  than  wax,  and  yet,  as  iron,  rusty  : 

A lily  pale,  with  damask  dye  to  grace  her, 

None  fairer,  nor  none  falser  to  deface  her. 

Her  lips  to  mine  how  often  hath  she  joined, 

Between  each  kiss  her  oaths  of  true  love  swearing ! 

How  many  tales  to  please  me  hath  she  coined, 
Dreading  my  love,  the  loss  thereof  still  fearing  ! io 
Yet  in  the  midst  of  all  her  pure  protestings, 

Her  faith,  her  oaths,  her  tears,  and  all  were  jestings. 

She  burn’d  with  love,  as  straw  with  fire  flameth ; 

She  burn’d  out  love,  as  soon  as  straw  out-burneth  ; 

She  fram’d  the  love,  and  yet  she  foil’d  the  framing; 

She  bade  love  last,  and  yet  she  fell  a-turning. 

Was  this  a lover,  or  a lecher  whether? 

Bad  in  the  best,  though  excellent  in  neither. 

V. 

Sweet  rose,  fair  flower,  untimely  pluck’d,  soon  vaded, 
Pluck’d  in  the  bud,  and  vaded  in  the  spring  ! 

Bright  orient  pearl,  alack,  too  timely  shaded  ! 

Fair  creature,  kill’d  too  soon  by  death’s  sharp  sting! 
Like  a green  plum  that  hangs  upon  a tree, 

And  falls,  through  wind,  before  the  fall  should  be. 

I weep  for  thee,  and  yet  no  cause  I have ; 

For  why,  thou  left’st  me  nothing  in  thy  will  : 

And  yet  thou  left’st  me  more  than  I did  crave ; 

For  why,  I craved  nothing  of  thee  still  : io 

O yes,  dear  friend,  I pardon  crave  of  thee, 

Thy  discontent  thou  didst  bequeath  to  me. 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM. 


VI. 

Crabbed  age  and  youth  cannot  live  together : 

Youth  is  full  of  pleasance,  age  is  full  of  care; 

Youth  like  summer  morn,  age  like  winter  weather; 
Youth  like  summer  brave,  age  like  winter  bare. 
Youth  is  full  of  sport,  age’s  breath  is  short; 

Youth  is  nimble,  age  is  lame; 

Youth  is  hot  and  bold,  age  is  weak  and  cold  ; 

Youth  is  wild,  and  age  is  tame. 

Age,  I do  abhor  thee  ; youth,  I do  adore  thee  ; 

O,  my  love,  my  love  is  young ! 

Age,  I do  defy  thee : O,  sweet  shepherd,  hie  thee, 
For  methinks  thou  stay’st  too  long. 

VII. 

Beauty  is  but  a vain  and  doubtful  good ; 

A shining  gloss  that  vadeth  suddenly; 

A flower  that  dies  when  first  it  gins  to  bud  ; 

A brittle  glass  that’s  broken  presently: 

A doubtful  good,  a gloss,  a glass,  a flower, 

Lost,  vaded,  broken,  dead  within  an  hour. 

And  as  goods  lost  are  seld  or  never  found, 

As  vaded  gloss  no  rubbing  will  refresh, 

As  flowers  dead  lie  wither’d  on  the  ground, 

As  broken  glass  no  cement  can  redress, 

So  beauty  blemish’d  once ’s  for  ever  lost, 

In  spite  of  physic,  painting,  pain,  and  cost. 

VIII. 

Good  night,  good  rest.  Ah,  neither  be  my  share; 
She  bade  good  night  that  kept  my  rest  away, 

And  daffd  me  to  a cabin  hang’d  with  care, 

To  descant  on  the  doubts  of  my  decay. 

4 Farewell,’  quoth  she,  4 and  come  again  to-morrow 
Fare  well  I could  not,  for  I supp’d  with  sorrow. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS . 

Yet  at  my  parting  sweetly  did  she  smile, 

In  scorn  or  friendship,  nill  I construe  whether; 

’T  may  be,  she  joy’d  to  jest  at  my  exile, 

’T  may  be,  again  to  make  me  wander  thither:  io 

‘ Wander,’  a word  for  shadows  like  myself, 

As  take  the  pain,  but  cannot  pluck  the  pelf. 

Lord,  how  mine  eyes  throw  gazes  to  the  east! 

My  heart  doth  charge  the  watch;  the  morning  rise 
Doth  cite  each  moving  sense  from  idle  rest. 

Not  daring  trust  the  office  of  mine  eyes, 

While  Philomela  sits  and  sings,  I sit  and  mark, 

And  wish  her  lays  were  tuned  like  the  lark ; 

For  she  doth  welcome  daylight  with  her  ditty, 

And  drives  away  dark  dismal-dreaming  night:  20 

The  night  so  pack’d,  I post  unto  my  pretty; 

Heart  hath  his  hope,  and  eyes  their  wished  sight; 
Sorrow  chang’d  to  solace,  solace  mix’d  with  sorrow; 
For  why,  she  sigh’d  and  bade  me  come  to-morrow. 

Were  I with  her,  the  night  would  post  too  soon ; 

But  now  are  minutes  added  to  the  hours ; 

To  spite  me  now,  each  minute  seems  a moon; 

Yet  not  for  me,  shine  sun  to  succour  flowers! 

Pack  night,  peep  day;  good  day,  of  night  now  bor- 
row ; 

Short,  night,  to-night,  and  length  thyself  to-morrow.  30 
IX. 

Whenas  thine  eye  hath  chose  the  dame, 

And  stall’d  the  deer  that  thou  shouldst  strike, 

Let  reason  rule  things  worthy  blame, 

As  well  as  partial  fancy  like ; 

Take  counsel  of  some  wiser  head, 

Neither  too  young  nor  yet  unwed. 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM. 


And  when  thou  com’st  thy  tale  to  tell, 
Smooth  not  thy  tongue  with  filed  talk, 

Lest  she  some  subtle  practice  smell, — 

A cripple  soon  can  find  a halt; — 

But  plainly  say  thou  lov’st  her  well, 

And  set  her  person  forth  to  sell. 

What  though  her  frowning  brows  be  bent, 
Her  cloudy  looks  will  clear  ere  night; 

And  then  too  late  she  will  repent 
That  thus  dissembled  her  delight, 

And  twice  desire,  ere  it  be  day, 

That  which  with  scorn  she  put  away. 

What  though  she  strive  to  try  her  strength^ 
And  ban  and  brawl,  and  say  thee  nay, 

Her  feeble  force  will  yield  at  length, 

When  craft  hath  taught  her  thus  to  say, 

‘ Had  women  been  so  strong  as  men, 

In  faith,  you  had  not.  had  it  then.’ 

And  to  her  will  frame  all  thy  ways  ; 

Spare  not  to  spend,  and  chiefly  there 
Where  thy  desert  may  merit  praise, 

By  ringing  in  thy  lady’s  ear  : 

The  strongest  castle,  tower,  and  town, 
The  golden  bullet  beats  it  down. 

Serve  always  with  assured  trust, 

And  in  thy  suit  be  humble-true  ; 

Unless  thy  lady  prove  unjust, 

Press  never  thou  to  choose  anew: 

When  time  shall  serve,  be  thou  not  slack 
To  proffer,  though  she  put  thee  back. 

The  wiles  and  guiles  that  women  work, 
Dissembled  with  an  outward  show, 

The  tricks  and  toys  that  in  them  lurk, 


THE  PHOENIX  AND  THE  TURTLE. 


Let  the  bird  of  loudest  lay, 

On  the  sole  Arabian  tree, 

Herald  sad  and  trumpet  be, 

To  whose  sound  chaste  wings  obey. 

But  thou  shrieking  harbinger, 

Foul  precurrer  of  the  fiend, 

Augur  of  the  fever’s  end, 

To  this  troop  come  thou  not  near! 

From  this  session  interdict 
Every  fowl  of  tyrant  wing, 

Save  the  eagle,  feather’d  king  ; 
Keep  the  obsequy  so  strict. 


164 


SHAKESPEARE'S  POEMS. 


Let  the  priest  in  surplice  white, 

That  defunctive  music  can, 

Be  the  death-divining  swan, 

Lest  the  requiem  lack  his  right. 

And  thou  treble-dated  crow, 

That  thy  sable  gender  mak’st 
With  the  breath  thou  giv’st  and  tak’st, 
’Mongst  our  mourners  shalt  thou  go. 

Here  the  anthem  doth  commence: 
Love  and  constancy  is  dead  ; 

Phoenix  and  the  turtle  fled 
In  a mutual  flame  from  hence. 

So  they  lov’d,  as  love  in  twain 
Had  the  essence  but  in  one ; 

Two  distincts,  division  none  : 

Number  there  in  love  was  slain. 

Hearts  remote,  yet  not  asunder  ; 
Distance,  and  no  space  was  seen 
’Twixt  the  turtle  and  his  queen  : 

But  in  them  it  were  a wonder. 

So  between  them  love  did  shine 
That  the  turtle  saw  his  right 
Flaming  in  the  phoenix’  sight ; 

Either  was  the  other’s  mine. 

Property  was  thus  appall’d, 

That  the  self  was  not  the  same  ; 
Single  nature’s  double  name 
Neither  two  nor  one  was  call’d. 

Reason,  in  itself  confounded, 

Saw  division  grow  together, 

To  themselves  yet  either  neither, 
Simple  were  so  well  compounded, 


THE  PHCEXrX  AND  THE  TURTLE. 


i65 

That  it  cried,  How  true  a twain 
Seemeth  this  concordant  one! 

Love  hath  reason,  reason  none, 

If  what  parts  can  so  remain. 

Whereupon  it  made  this  threne 

To  the  phoenix  and  the  dove,  5o 

Co  supremes  and  stars  of  love, 

As  chorus  to  their  tragic  scene. 

THRENOS. 

Beauty,  truth,  and  rarity, 

Grace  in  all  simplicity, 

Here  enclos’d  in  cinders  lie. 

Death  is  now  the  phoenix’  nest; 

And  the  turtle’s  loyal  breast 
To  eternity  doth  rest, 

Leaving  no  posterity: 

’T  was  not  their  infirmity,  60 

It  was  married  chastity. 

Truth  may  seem, but  cannot  be; 

Beauty  brag,  but ’t  is  not  she  ; 

Truth  and  beauty  buried  be. 

To  this  urn  let  those  repair 
That  are  either  true  or  fair ; 

For  these  dead  birds  sigh  a prayer. 


ABBREVIATIONS  USED  IN  THE  NOTES. 


Abbott  (or  Gr.),  Abbott’s  Shakespearian  Grammar  (third  edition). 

A.  S.,  Anglo-Saxon. 

A.  V.,  Authorized  Version  of  the  Bible  (1611). 

B.  and  F.,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 

B.  J.,  Ben  Jonson. 

Camb.  ed.,  “ Cambridge  edition”  of  Shakespeare,  edited  by  Clark  and  Wright. 

Cf.  {confer),  compare. 

Coll.,  Collier  (second  edition). 

D.,  Dyce  (second  edition). 

Et  al.,  and  other  eds.  (that  is,  following  or  later  ones). 

H.,  Hudson  (“Harvard”  edition). 

Halliwell,  J.  O.  Halliwell  (folio  ed.  of  Shakespeare). 

Id.  {idem),  the  same. 

K.,  Knight  (second  edition). 

Nares,  Glossary , edited  by  Halliwell  and  Wright  (London,  1859). 

Prol.,  Prologue. 

S.,  Shakespeare. 

Schmidt,  A.  Schmidt’s  Shakespeare- Lexicon  (Berlin,  1874). 

Sr.,  Singer. 

St.,  Staunton. 

Theo. , Theobald. 

W.,  R.  Grant  White. 

Walker,  Wm.  Sidney  Walker’s  Critical  Examination  of  the  Text  of  Shakespeare 
(London,  i860). 

Warb.,  Warburton. 

Wb.,  Webster’s  Dictionary  (revised  quarto  edition  of  1879). 

Wore.,  Worcester’s  Dictionary  (quarto  edition). 

The  abbreviations  of  the  names  of  Shakespeare’s  Plays  will  be  readily  understood;  as 
T.  Al.  for  Twelfth  Night,  Cor.  for  Coriolanus,  3 Hen.  VI.  for  The  Third  Part  of  King 
Henry  the  Sixth,  etc.  P.  P.  refers  to  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  ; V.  and  A.  to  Venus 
and  Adonis ; L.  C.  to  Lover* s Complaint ; and  Sonn.  to  the  Sonnets. 

When  the  abbreviation  of  the  name  of  a play  is  followed  by  a reference  to  page, 
Rolfe’s  edition  of  the  play  is  meant. 

The  numbers  of  the  lines  (except  for  The  Passionate  Pilgrim)  are  those  of  the 
“ Globe  ”ed. 


NOTES 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  TARQUIN. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  * 

The  Early  Editions. — Richard  Field,  the  printer  of  the  first  ed. 
(see  p.  9 above)  was  a native  of  Stratford,  and  the  son  of  the  Henry 
Field  whose  goods  John  Shakespeare  was  employed  to  value  in  1592. 
He  adopted  the  device  of  an  anchor,  with  the  motto  “Anchora  spei,” 
because  they  had  been  used  by  his  father-in-law,  Thomas  Vautrollier,  a 
celebrated  and  learned  printer,  who  resided  in  Blackfriars,  and  to  whose 
business,  at  his  death  in  1589,  Field  succeeded. 

The  poem  was  licensed  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  (Whitgift), 
and  entered  in  the  Stationers’  Register,  April  18,  1 593* 

The  second  edition,  likewise  printed  and  published  by  Field,  must 
have  been  brought  out  early  in  1594,  as  the  transfer  of  the  copyright 


NOTES . 


170 

from  Field  to  Harrison  is  recorded  as  having  taken  place  on  the  25th  of 
June  in  that  year. 

The  third  edition  was  printed  by  Field,  though  published  by  Harrison, 
and  must  have  appeared  before  June,  1596,  when  Harrison  transferred 
the  copyright  to  Leake. 

It  is  probable  that  there  were  editions  between  this  of  1596  and  that 
of  !599*  The  poem  had  evidently  been  very  popular,  and  it  would  be 
strange  if  Leake  did  not  issue  an  edition  until  three  years  after  he  had 
secured  the  copyright.  When  we  consider  that  of  the  1st,  4th,  5th,  and 
10th*  eds.  only  single  copies  have  come  down  to  our  day,  of  the  3d,  6th, 
and  9th,  only  two  copies  each,  and  of  the  2d  only  three  copies,  it  is  not 
unreasonable  to  suppose  that  of  some  editions  not  a single  copy  has  sur- 
vived. It  is  also  probable  that  there  were  editions  between  1602  and 
1627,  when  the  poem  was  reprinted  in  Edinburgh. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  book  may  have  fallen  under  the  ban  of 
the  Privy  Council.  A decree  of  the  Star  Chamber,  dated  June  23,  1585, 
gave  unlimited  power  to  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  to  seize  and  de- 
stroy whatever  books  they  thought  proper.  A notable  instance  of  this 
interference  with  books  already  printed  occurred  in  1599,  at  Stationers’ 
Hall,  when  a number  of  objectionable  works  were  burned,  and  special 
admonitions  given  then  and  there  to  the  printers,  some  of  the  most  em- 
inent of  the  time,  and  among  them  our  friend  Richard  Field  (Edmonds). 

That  the  poem  was  considered  somewhat  objectionable  even  in  that 
day  is  evident  from  certain  contemporaneous  references  to  it.  Halliwell 
( Outlines , etc.,  p.  221)  quotes  A Mad  World  my  Masters,  1608  : “ I have 
convay’d  away  all  her  wanton  pamphlets,  as  Hero  and  Leander,  Venus 
and  Adonis  ;”  and  Sir  John  Davies,  who  in  his  Papers  Complaint  (found 
in  his  Scourge  of  Folly , 1610)  makes  “Paper”  admit  the  superlative  ex- 
cellence of  Shakespeare’s  poem,  but  at  the  same  time  censure  its  being 
“attired  in  such  bawdy  geare.”  It  is  also  stated  that  “ the  coyest  dames 
in  private  read  it  for  their  closset-games.”  In  The  Dumbe  Knight,  1608, 
the  lawyer’s  clerk  refers  to  it  as  “maides  philosophic;”  and  the  stanza 
beginning  with  line  229  is  quoted  both  in  that  play  and  in  Heywood’s 
hay  re  Mayde  of  the  Exchange,  1607. 

The  Dedication. — For  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  see  p.  36,  foot- 
note, above.  For  a much  fuller  account,  with  the  many  poetical  trib- 
utes paid  him,  see  the  Var.  of  1821,  vol.  xx.  pp.  427-468. 

8.  Ear.  Plough,  till.  See  Rich.  II.  p.  192. 

10.  Your  honour.  Your  lordship.  Cf.  T.  of  A.  p.  137. 

Venus  and  Adonis.— 3.  Rose-cheek\i  Adonis.  Marlowe  applies  the 
same  epithet  to  the  youth  in  his  Hero  and  Leander : 

“The  men  of  wealthy  Sestos  every  year. 

For  his  sake  whom  their  goddess  held  so  dear, 

Rose-cheek’ d Adonis,  kept  a solemn  feast.” 


* This  is  true  of  both  the  ed.  known  to  have  been  published  in  1630  and  the  one  in 
the  Bodleian  ascribed  to  that  year. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS . 


171 


6.  dins.  H.  and  some  others  print  “’gins  but  see  Macb.  p.  153. 

9.  Stain  to  all  nymphs.  That  is,  by  eclipsing  them.  Cf.  1 Hen.  VI 

iv.  1.  45. 

ic.  Doves  or  roses.  Farmer  conjectures  “and”  for  or  ; but  the  latter 
is  doubtless  what  S.  wrote. 

11.  With  herself  at  strife.  Cf.  291  below.  See  also  T.  of  A.  p.  135, 
note  on  39. 

16.  Honey.  For  the  adjective  use,  cf.  452  and  538  below. 

19.  Satiety.  The  first  four  eds.  * and  the  10th  have  “sacietie.” 

20.  Famish  them,  etc.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  ii.  2.  241  : 

“ Other  women  cloy 

The  appetites  they  feed;  but  she  makes  hungry 
Where  most  she  satisfies.” 

25.  His  sweating  palm.  Steevens  quotes  A.  and  C.  i.  2.  53  : “Nay,  if 
an  oily  palm  be  not  a fruitful  prognostication,”  etc.  See  also  143  below, 
and  Oth.  iii.  4.  36  fol. 

26.  Pith.  Vigour.  Cf.  Hen . V.  p.  162. 

32.  Her  other.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “the  other.” 

40.  Prove.  Try  ; as  in  608  below. 

53.  Miss.  Misbehaviour.  Malone  and  others  print  “’miss.” 

54.  Murthers.  The  1st,  2d,  3d,  and  4th  eds.  have  “murthers,”  the 
others  “smothers.” 

55.  Empty  eagle.  We  have  the  same  expression  in  2 Hen.  VI.  iii.  1. 
248  and  3 Hen.  VI.  i.  I.  268. 

56.  Tires.  Tears  and  feeds  ravenously  upon.  Cf.  Cymb.  p.  195. 

61.  Forc'd  to  content.  “ Forced  to  content  himself  in  a situation  from 
which  he  had  no  means  of  escaping”  (Steevens). 

62.  Breatheth.  The  reading  of  the  first  three  eds. ; “ breathing  ” in  the 
4th  and  the  rest. 

66.  Such  distilling.  Walker  would  read  “such-distilling.” 

71.  Rank.  Exuberant,  high.  Cf.  the  use  of  the  noun  in  K.  John , v.  4.  54  : 

“ And,  like  a bated  and  retired  flood, 

Leaving  our  rankness  and  irregular  course, 

Stoop  low  within  those  bounds  we  have  o’erlook'd.’* 

76.  Ashy-pale.  Malone  at  first  made  this  refer  to  Adonis,  but  subse- 
quently saw  that  it  goes  with  anger. 

78.  More.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  332  : “ A more  rejoicing,”  etc.  Gr.  17. 

82.  Take  truce.  Make  peace.  Cf.  K.  John,  iii.  1.  17  : “ With  my  vex'd 
spirits  I cannot  take  a truce,”  etc.  The  4th  ed.  has  “ takes  truce.” 


* The  4th  of  the  early  eds.,  or  that  of  1599  (see  p 10  above)  is  not  collated  in  the 
Camb.  ed.  or  any  other  ed.  known  to  us.  We  have  had  the  opportunity  of  consulting 
the  fac-simile  reprint  in  the  Harvard  library,  and  have  noted  all  the  variations  that  seem 
worth  mentioning  in  an  edition  like  this.  For  misprints  not  found  in  any  other  early 
ed.  (or  at  least  not  recorded  in  the  Camb.  ed.)  see  on  82,  313,  350,  365,  506,  655,  700, 
704,  754,  868,  901,  969,  1002,  1073,  1136,  1143,  1168,  etc.  Of  course  the  5th  ed.  of  our 
numbering  is  the  4th  of  the  Camb.  ed.,  our  6th  is  their  5th,  and  so  on.  The  dated  ed. 
of  1630  (see  p.  11  above)  is  not  collated  in  any  ed.,  and  has  not  been  reprinted.  We 
have  therefore  omitted  it  in  the  numbering  of  the  early  eds.  For  the  readings  of  all 
these  eds.  except  the  \th  we  have  depended  on  the  Camb.  ed. 


172 


NOTES. 


90.  Winks.  Shuts  his  eyes  ; as  in  12 1 below. 

91.  Passenger.  Wayfarer ; the  only  sense  in  S.  Cf.  7'.  G.  of  V.  iv.  1. 
1,  72,  v.  4.  15,  etc. 

94.  Yet  her.  The  reading  of  the  first  four  eds. ; the  rest  have  “ Yet  in.” 

97.  I have  been  wooed , etc.  For  other  allusions  to  the  loves  of  Mars 
and  Venus,  see  Temp.  iv.  1.  98,  A.  and  C.  i.  5.  18,  etc. 

106.  To  toy.  All  the  early  eds.,  except  the  1st  and  2d,  have  “ To  coy.” 

109.  He  that  overrul'd.  For  he  = him,  see  Gr.  207. 

1 18.  In  the  ground.  That  is,  on  it.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  ii.  1. 85,  etc. 

1 19.  There.  Changed  to  “where”  in  the  4th  and  later  eds. 

123.  There  are.  The  reading  of  the  1st  ed. ; “there  be”  in  the  rest, 
except  the  10th,  which  has  “they  be.” 

126.  Nor  knozv  not.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  read  “ nor  know  they.” 

133.  Hard-favour  d.  Hard-featured,  ill-looking  ; as  in  931  below.  The 
hyphen  in  wrinkled-old  is  due  to  Malone. 

134.  I l l- nurtur'd.  Ill-bred  ; used  again  in  2 Hen . VI.  i.  2.  42  : “ Pre- 
sumptuous dame,  ill-nurtur’d  Eleanor,”  etc. 

135.  O'er-worn.  Cf.  Rich.  III.  i.  1.  81  : “The  jealous,  o’er-worn  wid- 
ow,” etc.  In  866  below,  the  word  is  used  of  time  — spent. 

140.  Grey.  Explained  by  Malone,  H.,  and  others  as  =blue;  but  see 
R.  and  J.  p.  172. 

142.  Plump.  The  4th  ed.  has  “plumbe  the  5th,  6th,  7th,  8th,  and 
10th  (according  to  the  Camb.  ed.)  have  “plum.” 

143.  Moist  hand.  See  on  25  above. 

148.  No  footing  seen.  Malone  quotes  Temp.  v.  1.  34  : 

“ And  ye  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  feet 
Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,’ : etc. 

149.  Compact  of  fire.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  v.  1.  8 : “of  imagination  all  com- 
pact A.  Y.  L.  ii.  7.  5 : “compact  of  jars,”  etc. 

150.  Not  gross  to  sink , etc.  Cf.  C.  of  E.  iii.  2.  52  : “Let  Love,  being 
light,  be  drowned  if  she  sink ;”  and  see  our  ed.  p.  128. 

152.  These.  Changed  to  “the”  in  the  5th  and  following  eds. 

153.  Doves.  Cf.  Temp.  iv.  1.  94,  where  Venus  is  referred  to  as  “dove- 
drawn.”  See  also  1190  below,  and  R.and  J.  p.  177. 

160.  Complain  on.  The  3d  and  subsequent  eds.  have  “complain  of.” 
See  Gr.  181,  and  cf.  544  below. 

1 6 1 . Narcissus.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  265  and  A.  and  C.  ii.  5.  96. 

168.  To  themselves.  For  themselves  alone,  “ without  producing  fruit  or 
benefiting  mankind”  (Malone).  Cf.  1180  below. 

Wast.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  “wert.” 

177.  Titan.  The  sun  ; as  in  T.  and  C.  v.  10.  25,  R.  and  J.  ii.  3.  4, 
Cymb.  iii.  4.  166,  etc. 

Tired  is  explained  by  Boswell  as  —attired  ; and  Schmidt  favours  that 
explanation.  Cf.  L.  L.  L.  iv.  2.  131  : “ the  tired  horse  ;”  and  see  our  ed. 
p.  147.  Coll,  prints  “ ’tired.” 

1 81.  Spright.  Spirit.  Ci.  R.  of  L.  121.  The  word  is  often  monosyl- 
labic when  printed  spirit . Gr.  463. 

193.  Chines  but  warm.  “Affords  only  a natural  and  genial  heat;  it 
warms  but  it  does  not  burn  ” (Malone). 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


173 


199.  Obdurate.  Accented  on  the  second  syllable,  as  elsewhere  in  S. 
Cf.  R.  of  L.  429,  M.  of  V.  iv.  1.  8,  etc.  . , 

203.  Hard.  The  reading  of  the  1st  ed. ; “bad”  in  all  the  rest. 

204.  Unkind.  Leaving  none  of  her  kind , or  race  ; childless.  Malone 
explains  it  as  “ unnatural.”  Cf.  Lear,  p.  176. 

20Z  Contemn  me  this.  “ Contemptuously  refuse  this  favour  (Ma- 
lone) The  10th  ed.  has  “thus”  for  this,  and  Steevens  was  inclined  to 
that  reading.  “ Thus  and  kiss,”  he  says,  “ correspond  in  sound  as  well 
as  unlikely  and  quickly , adder  and  shudder,  which  we  meet  with  aftei- 

wards.”  J , . , . , 

21 1.  Lifeless.  The  early  eds.  have  “liuelesse,”  except  the  4th,  which 

has  “ liueles.”  „ • „ ■ „ . , 

222.  Intendments.  Intentions.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  p.  139*  S.  uses  the  woid 
four  times,  intention  only  twice. 

229.  Fondling.  Darling  ; used  by  S.  only  heie. 

230.  Pale.  Enclosure  ; as  in  C.  of  E.  ii.  1.  100,  etc. 

231  A park.  The  3d  and  following  eds.  have  “the  parke. 

242.  That.  So  that.  Gr.  283.  Cf.  599,  830,  and  1 140  below. 

247.  These  round*  Changed  in  the  5th  and  later  eds.  to  * those  round. 
237  .Remorse.  Pity,  tenderness.  Cf.  Tick.  III.  p.  221,  note  on  210. 
272  Compass'd.  Curved,  arched.  In  T.  and  C.  i.  2.  120,  “compassed 
window  ” = bow-window,  and  in  T.  of  S.  iv.  3.  140,  “ compassed  cape  - 

round  cape.  , , . . . . . 

Stand  is  the  reading  of  the  first  four  eds. ; changed  in  the  later  ones  to 
“stands.”  Mane  “as  composed  of  many  hairs”  (Malone)  is  here  used 
3,s  a.  plural. 

275.  Scornfully  glisters , Some  editors  follow  Sewell  in  transposing 
these  words.  On  glisters , see  M.  of  V.  p.  145. 

277.  Told.  Counted;  as  in  520  below.  Cf.  Temp.  p.  123. 

27Q  Leaps.  Malone  infers  from  the  rhyme  that  the  word  was  pro- 
nounced leps,  as  it  still  is  in  Ireland  ; but  it  is  hardly  safe  to  draw  an 
inference  from  a single  rhyme.  In  Sonn.  128.  5,  we  have  leap  rhymed 

with  reap.  . T j y> 

2S1.  This  I do.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  thus  I do. 

293.  Round-hoof  d,  etc.  See  p.  32  above.  . 

296.  Eve.  Changed  to  “ eyes  ” in  the  5th  and  following  eds. 

301.  Sometime.  The  8th,  9th,  1 ith,  and  12th  eds.  have  Sometimes. 
The  words  were  used  by  S.  interchangeably.  ...  e 

303.  To  bui  the  mind  a base.  To  challenge  the  wind  to  a race.  See 
Cvm b.  p.  213,  note  on  Base. 

304.  And  whether.  The  early  eds.  have  “ And  where.  Malone  prints 
“ And  whe’r.”  See  J.  C.  p.  1 28,  note  on  Whe'r.  Gr  466. 

206.  Who.  The  10th  ed.  “ corrects  this  to  which.  See  Gi.  264. 

312.  Embracements.  Cf.  790  below.  S.  uses  the  word  oftener  than 
embrace  (noun),  though  in  this  poem  the  latter  is  found  three  times  (539, 
81 1,  874),  or  as  many  times  as  in  all  his  other  woiks.^ 

313.  Malcontent . The  4th  ed.  has  “male  content. 

314.  Vails.  Lowers  ; as  in  956  below.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  128. 

315.  Buttock.  Changed  to  the  plural  in  the  4U1  and  following  eds. 


319*  Goeth  about . Attempts.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  412;  and  see  M.  AT.  D. 
p.  177. 

325.  Chafing . The  4th,  5th,  7th,  and  10th  eds.  have  “chasing.”  For 
chafe , see  J.  C.  p.  13 1. 

326.  Banning.  Cursing.  Cf.  2 Hen . F7.  iii.  2.  319:  “to  curse  and 
ban,”  etc. 

334.  Fire.  A dissyllable;  as  not  unfrequently.  The  first  three  eds. 
print  it  “fier;”  as  they  do  in  402  below,  where  it  is  a monosyllable. 
Sewell  reads  “doth  oft.” 

335.  The  hear? s attorney.  That  is,  the  tongue.  Steevens  aptly  quotes 
Rich . Ill . iv.  4.  127  : 

“ Duchess ■ Why  should  calamity  be  full  of  words? 

' Queen  Elizabeth.  Windy  attorneys  to  their  client  woes,”  etc. 

343.  Wistly.  Wistfully;  modifying  came  stealing,  not  view.  Cf.  R.  of 
L.  1355:  “wistly  on  him  gaz’d,”  etc.  Schmidt  makes  it  =*-*  attentively, 
observingly,  with  scrutiny,”  in  both  passages. 

346.  How  white  and  red,  etc.  Steevens  compares  T.  of  S.  iv.  5.  30  : 
“ Such  war  of  white  and  red  within  her  cheeks  !” 

350.  Lowly.  The  4th  ed.  has  “slowly.” 

352.  Cheek.  Made  plural  in  the  5th  and  later  eds.  In  the  next  line 
the  4th  and  the  rest  read  “cheeks  (or  “ cheekes  ”)  reuiues”  or  “cheekes 
receiue;”  and  all  eds.  except  the  1st  have  “tender”  for  tenderer. 

359.  His.  Its.  Gr.  228.  The  allusion  is  to  the  chorus , or  interpreter, 
in  a dumb-show,  or  pantomime.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  228,  note  on  Chorus. 

365.  And  unwilling.  The  4th  ed.  has  “and  willing.” 

367.  The  engine  of  her  thoughts . That  is,  her  tongue.  On  engine,  cf. 
T.  G.  of  V.  p.  140. 

376.  Grave.  Engrave,  impress.  Schmidt  makes  it  —“cut  a little, 
wound  slightly,  graze.” 

370.  Thy  heart  my  wound . “Thy  heart  wounded  as  mine  is”  (Ma- 
lone). 

3 88.  Suffer'd.  That  is,  allowed  to  burn.  Cf.  3 Hen.  VI.  iv.  8.  8 : 

“A  little  fire  is  quickly  trodden  out,- 
Which,  being  suffer’d,  rivers  cannot  quench.” 

397.  Sees.  The  2d,  3d,  and  4th  eds.  have  “ seekes.”  In  her  naked  bed, 
as  H.  takes  the  trouble  to  inform  us,  means  “naked  in  her  bed.”  This 
rhetorical  transference  of  an  epithet  is  familiar  to  every  schoolboy.  Cf. 
“ idle  bed  ” [J.  C.  ii.  1.  1 17),  “ lazy  bed  ” ( T and  C.  i.  3.  147),  “ tired  bed  ” 
[Lear,  i.  2.  13),  etc.  So  sick  bed,  etc. 

398.  A whiter  hue  than  white.  Cf.  Cymb.  ii.  2.  14: 

“ How  bravely  thou  becom’st  thy  bed,  fresh  lily, 

And  whiter  than  the  sheets!” 

and  R.  of  L.  472  : “ Who  o’er  the  white  sheet  peers  her  whiter  chin.” 

41 1.  Owe.  Own,  possess.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  1803,  etc. 

424.  Alarms.  Alarums,  attacks.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have 
“alarrne.”  The  4th  has  “alarum.” 

429.  Mermaid.  Siren  ; the  usual  meaning  in  S.  Cf.  777  below. 

432.  Ear's.  Misprinted  “Earths”  in  the  4th  and  later  eds. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


*75 

434.  Divisible.  Steevens  conjectures  “ invincible but,  as  Malone  re- 
marks, “ an  opposition  is  clearly  intended  between  external  beauty,  of 
which  the  eye  is  the  judge,  and  a melody  of  voice  (which  the  poet  calls 
inward  beauty)  striking  not  the  sight,  but  the  ear.” 

436.  Sensible.  Endowed  with  sensibility,  sensitive.  Cf.  L.  L.  L.  p.  152. 

443.  Stillitory.  Alembic,  still  ; used  by  S.  only  here.  Malone,  H., 
and  others  print  “still’tory.” 

447  Might.  The  reading  of  the  1st  and  2d  eds. ; “should  in  the 
rest. 

448.  And  bid  Suspicion , etc.  Malone  thinks  that  “ a bolder  or  happier 
personification  than  this”  is  hardly  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare’s  works  ! 

454.  Wrack.  The  regular  form  of  the  word  in  S.  Cf.  the  rhymes  in 
558  below,  R.  of  L.  841,  965,  etc. 

456.  Flaws.  Sudden  gusts,  or  “squalls.”  Cf.  Cor.  p.  268,  or  Ham. 

P*  462.*  Struck.  Spelt  “strucke,”  “stroake,”  “stroke,”  and  “stvooke” 
in  the  early  eds.  Cf.  J.  C.  p.  14b  (on  Hath  stricken ) and  p.  160  (on  Struck - 
en  by  many  princes).  Gr.  344. 

466.  Bankrupt.  “ Bankrout,”  “banckrout,”  or  “banquerout  * in  the. 
old  eds.  See  R.  and  J.  p.  187.  H.  adopts  Walker’s  plausible  conject- 
ure of  “ loss  ” for  love. 

469.  All  amaz'd.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  “ in  a maze.” 

472.  Fair  fall , etc.  May  good  luck  befall,  etc.  Cf.  K.  John,  p.  133. 

482.  Blue  windows.  That  is,  eyelids.  See  R.  and  J.  p.  172,  note  on 
Grey  eye. 

484.  Earth.  All  the  early  eds.  except  the  1st  have  “ world. 

488.  Shine.  For  the  noun,  cf.  728  below.  See  Per.  p.  134. 

490.  Repine.  The  only  instance  of  the  noun  in  S.  The  verb  occurs 
only  three  times. 

492.  Shone  like  the  moon , etc.  Malone  compares  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  30  fol. 

497.  Annoy.  For  the  noun,  cf.  599  below,  R.  of  L.  1 109,  1370,  etc. 

500.  Shrewd.  Evil.  Cf.  Hen.  VIII.  p.  202,  or  J.  C.  p.  145. 

506.  Their  crimson  liveries.  Referring,  of  course,  to  the  lips.  The 
transition  to  verdure  in  the  next  line  is  curious,  and  the  whole  passage 
is  a good  example  of  the  quaint  “ conceits”  of  the  time.  I he  allusion, 
as  Malone  remarks,  is  to  the  practice  of  strewing  rooms  with  rue  and 
other  strong-smelling  herbs  as  a means  of  preventing  infection.  The 
astrological  allusion  is  also  to  be  noted.  Writ  on  death  —predicted  death 
by  their  horoscopes.  The  4th  ed.  has  “ neither  ” for  never. 

' 51 1.  Sweet  seals.  Cf.  M.  for  M.  iv.  1.6;  and  see  our  ed.  p.  160. 

515.  Slips . A play  on  the  word  as  applied  to  counterfeit  coin.  Cf. 
R.  and  J.  p.  1 73,  note  on  Gave  us  the  counterfeit. 

519.  Touches.  “ Kisses”  in  the  5th  and  following  eds. 

520.  Told.  Counted  ; as  in  277  above. 

521.  Say, for  non-payment,  etc.  “The  poet  was  thinking  of  a condi- 
tional bond’s  becoming  forfeited  for  non-payment ; in  which  case  the  en- 
tire penalty  (usually  the  double  of  the  principal  sum  lent  by  the  obligee) 
was  formerly  recoverable  at  law”  (Malone). 

524.  Strangeness.  Bashful  ness,  reserve.  Cf.  310  above. 


NOTES . 


176 

526.  /vj.  Or  “small  fry,”  as  we  still  say.  Cf.  A.  W.  iv.  3.  250,  Mach . 
iv.  2.  84,  etc. 

529.  The  world's  comforter . Cf,  799  below. 

540.  Incorporate.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  iii.  2.  208  : 

“As  if  our  hands,  our  sides,  voices,  and  minds, 

Had  been  incorporate.  So  we  grew  together,”  etc. 

544.  Complain  on.  Cf.  1 60  above. 

550.  The  insulter.  The  exulting  victor  ; the  only  instance  of  the  noun 
in  S.  For  insult— exult,  cf.  Sonn.  107.  12,  3 Hen.  VI.  i.  3.  14,  etc. 

565.  With  tempering . Cf.  2 Hen.  IV.  iv.  3.  140  : “ I have  him  alreadv 
tempering  between  my  finger  and  my  thumb,  and  shortly  will  I seal  with 
him  and  see  our  ed.  p,  189. 

568.  Leave.  License.  Cf.  the  play  on  the  word  in  3 Hen.  VI.  iii.  2,  34 : 

‘ ‘ Ay,  good  leave  have  you ; for  you  will  have  leave 
Till  youth  take  leave,  and  leave  you  to  the  crutch.” 

570.  Wooes.  The  4th  ed.  has  “woes.” 

571.  Had  she  then  gave.  Elsewhere  S.  has  the  participle  given  (usu- 
ally monosyllabic).  It  is  a wonder  that  all  the  editors  have  let  gave  alone 
here.  Cf.  Gr.  343,  344. 

574.  Prickles . The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “pricks,”  and  “is  it”  for 
V is. 

589.  Pale.  For  the  noun,  cf.  R.  of  L.  1512  and  W.  T.  iv.  3.  4. 

590.  Like  lawn , etc.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  258. 

591.  Cheek.  Made  plural  in  the  4th  ed.  et  al.  See  on  352  above. 

593.  Hanging  by.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  “hanging  on.” 

595.  Lists  of  love.  Steevens  quotes  Dryden,  Don  Sebastian  : 

“The  sprightly  bridegroom  on  his  wedding  night 
More  gladly  enters  not  the  lists  of  love.” 

597.  Prove.  Experience.  Cf.  608  below,  and  A.  and  C.  i.  2.  33  : “You 
have  seen  and  prov’d  a fairer  former  fortune,”  etc. 

598.  Manage.  For  the  noun  as  applied  to  the  training  of  a horse,  see 
M.  of  V.  p.  153.  This  is  the  only  instance  in  S.  of  the  verb  similarly 
used. 

599.  That.  So  that.  See  on  242  above.  For  the  allusion  to  Tanta- 
lus, cf.  R.  of  L.  858. 

600.  Clip.  Embrace.  Cf.  Oth.  p,  192. 

602.  Pine.  Starve.  For  the  transitive  use,  cf.  Rich.  II.  p.  210. 

604.  Helpless.  Affording  no  help,  or  sustenance.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  1027  and 
1056.  See  also  Rich.  III.  p.  183. 

The  allusion,  as  Malone  notes,  is  to  the  celebrated  picture  of  Zeuxis, 
mentioned  by  Pliny,  in  which  some  grapes  were  so  well  represented  that 
birds  came  to  peck  them.  Cf.  Sir  John  Davies,  Nosce  Teipsum , 1599: 
“ And  birds  of  grapes  the  cunning  shadow  peck.” 

612.  Withhold.  Detain,  restrain  ; as  in  Rich.  Ill  iii.  I.  3°?  etc. 

615.  Be  advis'd.  Take  heed;  as  often. 

616.  Churlish  boar.  Cf.  T.  and  C.  i.  2.  21  : “ Churlish  as  the  bear,”  etc. 

618.  Mortal.  Death-dealing  ; as  in  950  below.  See  also  R.  of  L.  364, 

724,  etc.  Schmidt  takes  it  to  be  here  —human. 


VENUS  AN1)  ADONIS . 


i :i 


619.  Battle.  Battalion,  host  Cf.  Hen.  V.  p.  171. 

624.  Crooked.  The  Var.  of  1821  has  “cruel;”  apparently  accidental, 
as  it  is  given  without  comment. 

626.  Proof.  Defensive  armour.  Cf.  Macb.  p.  I55>  note  011  Lapp  d in 
proof  . , 

632.  Eyes  pay.  The  early  eds.  have  “eyes  (or  “eies  ) paies  (or 
«•  paves  ”)  or  “ eie  (or  “ eve  ”)  paies  ” (or  “ payes  ”)  ; corrected  by  Malone. 

Evne . The  old  plural,  used  for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme,  as  in  R.  of  L. 
643 ,M.  N.  D.  i.  1.  244,  ii.  2.  99,  iii.  2.  138,  v.  1.  178,  etc.  In  R.  of  L.  1229, 
it  is  not  a rhyming  word.  , . . . 

639.  Within  his  danger.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  iv.  1.  180 : “ You  stand  within 
his  danger,  do  you  not  ?”  T.  N.v.  1.  87  : 

“for  his  sake 

Did  I expose  myself,  pure  for  his  love. 

Into  the  danger  of  this  adverse  town,”  etc. 

652.  Kill , kill l The  old  English  battle-cry  in  charging  the  enemy. 
Cf.  Lear,  iv.  6.  19 1,  etc.  . 

655.  Bate-breeding.  Causing  quarrel  or  contention.  Cf.  2 Hen.  IV. 
ii.  4.  271  : “breeds  no  bate  with  telling  of  discreet  stories  and  see  our 
vd.  p.  1 71.  The  4th  ed.  has  “ bare-breeding.” 

656.  Canker.  Canker-worm.  See  M.  N.  D.  p.  150.  love's  tender 
spring— “ the  tender  bud  of  growing  love”  (Malone).  Cf.  C.  of  E.  iii. 
2.3:  “ Even  in  the  spring  of  love  thy  love-springs  rot.” 

657.  Carry-tale.  Used  again  in  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  463:  “Some  carry- 
tale,”  etc. 

662.  Angry-ckafing . Fretting  with  rage.  The  hyphen  was  inserted 
bv  Malone. 

' 668.  Imagination.  Metrically  six  syllables.  Gr.  479.  For  tremble,  the 
3d  and  later  eds.  have  “trembling.” 

673.  Uncouple.  Set  loose  the  hounds  ; as  in  M.  N.  D.  iv.  1.  112,  etc. 
677.  Fearful.  Full  of  fear,  timorous.  Cf.  927  below;  and  see  J.  C. 
p.  175,  note  on  With  fearful  bravery. 

680.  Overshoot.  The  early  eds.  have  “ ouer-shut  ” or  “ ouershut ;” 
corrected  by  D.  (the  conjecture  of  Steevens). 

682.  Cranks.  Turns,  winds.  Cf.  1 Hen.  IV.  iii.  1.  98:  “ See  how  this 
river  comes  me  cranking  in.” 

683.  Musits.  Holes  for  creeping  through.  Cf.  Two  Noble  Kinsmen , 

p.  175. 

684.  Amaze.  Bewilder.  Cf.  K.  John , p.  166. 

694.  Cold  fault.  Cold  scent,  loss  of  scent.  Cf.  T.ofS.  ind.  I.  20  : 

“ Saw’ st  thou  not,  boy,  how  Silver  made  it  good 
At  the  hedge-corner,  in  the  coldest  fault? 

I would  not  lose  the  dog  for  twenty  pound.” 

See  our  ed.  p.  1 26. 

695.  Spend  their  mouths.  That  is,  bark  ; a sportsman  s expression. 
Cf.  Hen.  V.  ii.  4.  70 : 

“for  coward  dogs 

Most  spend  their  mouths  when  what  they  seem  to  threaten 
Runs  far  behind  them.” 

M 


NOTES. 


178 


697.  Wat.  “ A familiar  term  among  sportsmen  for  a hare  ; why,  does 
not  appear.  Perhaps  for  no  better  reason  than  Philip  for  a sparrow 
[cf.  K.  John , p.  137],  Tom  for  a cat,  and  the  like  ” (Nares). 

700.  Their.  The  4th  ed.  has  “ with.” 

703.  Wretch.  On  the  use  of  the  word  as  a term  of  pity  or  tenderness, 
see  Oth.  p.  183. 

On  this  whole  passage,  see  p.  20  fol.  above. 

704.  Indenting.  The  4th  ed.  has  “ intending.” 

705.  Envious.  Malicious.  See  Rich.  JII.  p.  187,  or  M.  of  V.  p.  151. 

712.  Myself.  The  4th  and  following  eds.  have  “thy  selfe.” 

724.  True  men  thieves.  The  1st  and  2d  eds.  have  “ true-men  theeves,” 
the  3d  “rich-men  theeve,”  the  rest  “rich  men  theeves.”  On  the  use  cf 
true  men  in  opposition  to  thieves , see  I Hen.  IV.  pp.  160,  168. 

726.  Forsworn.  “ That  is,  having  broken  her  vow  of  virginity  ” (Stee- 
vens). 

734.  Curious.  Careful,  elaborate.  Cf.  A.  W.  i.  2.  20 : 

“Frank  Nature,  rather  curious  than  in  haste, 

Hath  well  compos’d  thee.” 

736.  Defeature.  Deformity  ; as  in  C.  of  E.  ii.  1.  98  and  v.  1.  299. 

738.  Mad.  “ Sad  ” in  the  5th  and  later  eds. 

740.  Wood.  Mad,  frantic.  See  I Hen.  VI.  p.  156,  on  Raging-wooa. 

743.  Imposthiimes.  Abscesses.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  245. 

746.  Fight.  The  5th  and  following  eds.  have  “sight and  in  748  the 
4th  and  the  rest  have  “imperiall”  for  impartial. 

751.  Fruitless.  Barren.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  i.  I.  73  : “the  cold  fruitless 
moon,”  etc. 

754.  Dearth.  The  4th  ed.  has  “ death.” 

755.  The  lamp,  etc.  “Ye  nuns  and  vestals,  says  Venus,  imitate  the 
example  of  the  lamp,  that  profiteth  mankind  at  the  expense  of  its  own 
oil.”  (Malone). 

760.  Dark.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  “their.” 

762.  Sith.  Since.  See  Cor.  p.  236,  note  on  Sithence.  Cf.  1163  below. 

766.  Reaves.  Bereaves.  For  the  participle,  still  used  in  poetry,  see 
1 1 74  below.  Cf.  2 Hen.  VI.  p.  177. 

768.  Use.  Interest.  See  Much  Ado,  p.  133. 

774.  Treatise.  Discourse,  talk,  tale.  Cf.  Much  Ado,  i.  1. 317  and  Mach. 
v.  5.  12,  the  only  other  instances  of  the  word  in  S. 

777.  Mermaid's.  Siren’s.  Cf.  429  above. 

780.  Closure.  Enclosure;  as  in  Sonn.  48.  11  and  Rich.  III.  iii.  3.  11. 
In  T.  A . v.  3.  134  it  is  =close,  conclusion. 

787.  Reprove.  Disprove,  confute;  as  in  Much  Ado,  ii.  3.  241  : “’tis 
so  ; I cannot  reprove  it,”  etc. 

795.  Simple.  Artless,  guileless. 

807.  In  sadness.  In  earnest.  Cf.  R.  and  f.  p.  144. 

808.  Teen.  Sorrow.  See  R.  aiid  J.  p.  150,  or  7'emp.  p.  1 13. 

813.  Laujid.  Lawn.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  “lawnes.”  See  3 
Hen.  VI.  p.  154. 

825.  Midrustful.  Causing  mistrust.  See  Gr.  3. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS . 


179 


830.  That . So  that.  See  on  242  above. 

833.  Av  me!  Changed  by  H.  to  “Ah  me!”  which  S.  never  uses. 
See  M.  N.  D.  p.  128. 

837.  Thrall.  Enslaved.  C f.  R.  of  L.  725.  For  the  noun,  see  Mach. 
p.  225. 

840.  A nszver.  The  plural  may  be  explained  either  by  the  implied  plu- 
ral in  the  collective  choir  or  by  “confusion  of  proximity”  (Gr.  412). 
The  12th  ed.  has  “answers.” 

848.  Idle  sounds  resembling  parasites.  That  is,  servilely  echoing  what 
she  says,  as  the  context  shows.  St.  reads  “ idle,  sounds-resembling,  par- 
asites. ” 

849.  Sh  rill  - tongued  tapsters , etc.  Cf.  1 Hen.  IV.  ii.  4,  where  Prince 
Henry  amuses  himself  with  the  tapster  Francis. 

850.  Wits.  Theo.  conjectured  “ wights,”  for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme  ; 
but  parasites  is  spelled  “parasits  ” in  the  first  three  eds.,  and  may  have 
been  intended  to  be  so  pronounced.  See  on  1001,  1002  below.  But  the 
rhyme  of  parasites  and  wits,  is  no  worse  than  many  in  the  poem.  Cf., 
for  instance,  449,  450,  and  635,  636  above. 

854.  Cabinet.  Poetically  for  nest,  as  cabin  in  637  above  for  lair  or 
den. 

858.  Seem  burnished  gold.  Malone  compares  the  opening  lines  of 
Sonn.  33. 

865.  Myrtle  grove.  It  will  be  recollected  that  the  myrtle  was  sacred 
to  Venus. 

866.  Musing.  Wondering.  See  K.  John , p.  158,  or  Macb.  p.  219. 

868.  For  his  hounds.  The  4th  ed.  omits  his. 

869.  Chant  it.  For  the  it,  see  Gr.  226. 

870.  Coasteth.  Schmidt  well  explains  the  word  : “ to  steer,  to  sail  not 
by  the  direct  way  but  in  sight  of  the  coast,  and  as  it  were  gropingly.” 
Cf.  Hen.  VIII.  iii.  2.  38  : 

“The  king  in  this  perceives  him,  how  he  coasts 
And  hedges  his  own  way.” 

See  our  ed.  p.  183. 

873.  Twine.  The  1st  and  2d  eds.  have  “twin’d,”  the  3d  “twind,”  and 
the  4th  “ twinde  ;”  corrected  in  the  5th. 

877.  At  a bay.  The  state  of  a chase  when  the  game  is  driven  to  ex- 
tremity and  turns  against  its  pursuers.  Cf.  T.  ofS.w.  2.  56,  1 Hen.  VI. 
iv.  2.  52,  etc. 

884.  Blunt.  Rough,  savage.  See  3 Hen.  VI.  p.  163. 

887.  Curst.  Snappish,  fierce.  Cf.  W.  T.  iii.  3.  135  : “they  [bears]  are 
never  curst  but  when  they  are  hungry;”  Much  Ado , ii.  I.  22  : “a  curst 
cow,”  etc.  See  also  M.  N.  D.  p.  167. 

888.  Cope  him.  Cope  with  him,  encounter  him.  Cf.  T.  aitd  C.  i.  2.  34, 
ii.  3.  275,  etc. 

891.  Who.  For  who  used  “to  personify  irrational  antecedents”  see 
Gr.  264.  Cf.  956  and  1041  below. 

892.  Cold-pale.  The  hyphen  is  in  the  early  eds. 

Ecstasy.  Excitement.  Cf.  Macb.  p.  21 1. 


i8o 


NOTES. 


896.  All  dismay'd.  The  reading  of  the  1st  and  2d  eds.;  “Sore  dis- 
may’d ” in  the  rest. 

899.  For  the  second  bids  the  6th  and  some  later  eds.  have  “will’s.” 

901.  Bepainted.  The  4th  ed.  has  “be  painted.” 

907.  Spleens.  Passionate  impulses.  Cf.  1 Hen.  IV.  p.  161. 

909.  Mated.  Bewildered,  paralyzed.  Cf.  Macb.  p.  247. 

91 1.  Respects.  Considerations,  thoughts  ; as  in  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  792,  etc. 
The  3d  and  later  eds.  have  “ respect.” 

912.  In  hand  with.  Taking  in  hand,  undertaking. 

930.  Exclaims  on.  Cries  out  against.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  741,  M.  of  V.  iii. 

2.  176,  etc. 

933.  Worm.  Serpent.  See  Cymb.  p.  193,  or  Macb.  p.  215. 

947.  Love's  golden  arrow , etc.  Malone  remarks  that  S.  had  probably 
in  mind  the  old  fable  of  Love  and  Death  exchanging  their  arrows  by 
mistake  ; and  he  quotes  Massinger,  Virgin  Martyr: 

“ Strange  affection ! 

Cupid  once  more  hath  chang’d  his  darts  with  Death, 

And  kills  instead  of  giving  life.” 

956.  Vail'd.  Let  fall.  See  on  314  above. 

962.  The  tears.  The  4th  and  following  eds.  have  “ her  teares  ;”  and  in 
968  “ which  ” for  who. 

969.  Passion  labours.  The  4th  ed.  has  “ passions  labour.” 

975.  Dire.  The  4th  ed.  misprints  “ drie,”  which  is  repeated  as  “ dry  ” 
in  the  5th  and  7th.  The  10th  has  “ drie  ” again. 

988.  Makes.  “ Make  ” in  the  5th  and  following  eds. 

990.  In  likely.  The  reading  of  the  1st  and  2d  eds.  The  3d  and  4th 
have  “ The  likely,”  and  the  rest  “ With  likely.” 

993.  All  to  naught.  Good  for  nothing.  Some  print  “all-to  naught,” 
and  others  “all  to-naught.”  Cf.  Per.  p.  147,  note  on  17. 

995.  Clepes.  Calls.  See  Macb.  p.  209. 

996.  Imperious.  “ Imperial  ” (the  reading  of  the  5th  ed.  et  all).  See 
Ham.  p.  264. 

998.  Pardon  me  I felt.  That  is,  that  I felt.  Some  make  pardon  me 
parenthetical. 

999.  Whenas.  When.  See  C.  of  E.  p.  142. 

1002.  Decease.  The  early  eds.  have  “ decesse,”  “ deceass,”  or  “ de- 
ceasse.”  See  on  850  above.  For  my  love's  the  4th  ed.  has  “thy  loues.” 

1004.  Wreak'd.  Revenged.  Cf.  R.  and  J.  iii.  5.  102  and  T.  A.  iv.  3. 
51.  See  also  the  noun  in  Cor.  iv.  5.  91,  T.  A.  iv.  3.  33,  etc.  The  4th  ed. 
prints  “ Bewreakt.” 

10 10.  Suspect.  For  the  noun,  see  Rich.  III.  p.  188. 

1012.  Insinuate  with . Try  to  ingratiate  herself  with.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L. 
p.  201. 

1013.  Stories.  For  the  verb,  cf.  R.  of  L.  106  and  Cymb.  i.  4.  34. 

1021.  Fond.  Foolish  ; the  usual  meaning  in  S.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  216, 1094,  etc. 

1027.  Falcon.  The  reading  of  the  5th  ed.,  and  to  be  preferred  on  the 
whole  to  the  plural  of  the  earlier  eds. 

1037.  His  bloody  view . Walker  (followed  by  H.)  conjectures  “this”  * 
for  his.  See  Gr.  219.  . 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS . 


181 


1038.  Deep-dark.  Hyphened  in  the  first  three  eds. 

1041.  Who.  See  on  891  above. 

1051.  Light.  The  reading  of  the  1st  and  2d  eds.  The  3d  and  4th 
have  “ night,”  and  the  rest  “ sight.” 

1052.  Trench'd.  Gashed.  See  Macb.  p.  214*  d he  3d  and  4th  eds. 
have  “drencht.” 

1054.  Was.  The  first  four  eds.  have  “ had  ;”  corrected  in  the  5th. 

1059.  Passions.  Grieves.  See  V G.  of  V.  p.  150. 

1062.  That  they  have  wept  till  noiv.  That  is,  that  they  have  wasted 
their  tears  on  inferior  “hints  of  woe.” 

1073.  Eyes'  red  fire.  The  1st  and  2d  eds.  have  “ eyes  red  fire,”  the  3d 
has  “eyes  red  as  fire,”  the  4th  “eies  as  red  as  fire,”  and  the  rest  have 
“ eyes,  as  fire.” 

1080.  True-sweet.  The  hyphen  was  inserted  by  Malone. 

1083.  Fair.  Beauty  ; as  in  C.  of  E.  ii.  1,  98,  A.  V.  L.  iii.  2.  99,  etc. 

1094.  Fear.  Frighten.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  137,  or  K.  fohn,p.  147. 

1098.  Silly.  Innocent,  helpless.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  167  : “ the  silly  lambs  ; 

3 Hen.  VI.  ii.  5.  43  : “silly  sheep,”  etc.  See  also  V G.  of  V.  p.  145* 

1105.  Urch in -snouted.  With  snout  like  that  of  a hedgehog.  For 
urchin,  cf.  Temp.  p.  1 19. 

1 1 10.  He  thought  to  kiss  him , etc.  This  conceit,  as  Malone  notes,  is 
found  in  the  30th  Idyl  of  Theocritus,  and  in  a Latin  poem  by  Antonius 
Sebastianus  Minturnus  entitled  De  Adoni  ab  A pro  Interempto : 

“iterum  atque  juro  iterum, 

Formosum  hunc  juvenem  tuum  liaud  volui 
Meis  diripere  his  cupidinibus ; 

Verum  dum  specimen  nitens  video 
(Aestus  impatiens  tenella  dabat 
Nuda  femina  mollibus  zephyris), 

Ingens  me  miserum  libido  capit 
Mille  suavia  dulcia  hinc  capere, 

Atque  me  impulit  ingens  indomitus.'* 

Cf.  Milton,  Death  of  a Fair  Infant : 

“ O fairest  flower,  no  sooner  blown  but  blasted  I 
Soft  silken  primrose  fading  timelessly, 

Summer’s  chief  honour,  if  thou  hadst  outlasted 
Bleak  Winter’s  force  that  made  thy  blossom  dry; 

For  he,  being  amorous  on  that  lovely  dye 
That  did  thy  cheek  en vermeil,  thought  to  kiss, 

But  kill’d,  alas!  and  then  bewail’d  his  fatal  bliss.” 

1 1 13.  Did  not.  All  the  eds.  except  the  1st  have  “ would  not.” 

1 1 15.  Nuzzling.  Thrusting  his  nose  in  ; the  only  instance  of  the  word 
in  S.  It  is  spelled  “ nousling”  in  all  the  early  eds. 

1120.  Am  /.  The  reading  of  the  1st  and  2d  eds. ; “ I am  ” in  the  rest. 

1125.  Ears.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  “ear,”  and  in  the  next  line 
“ he  ” for  they. 

1128.  Lies.  For  the  singular,  see  Gr.  333. 

1134.  Thou.  The  4th  and  following  eds.  have  “you,”  and  in  1139  the 
5th  et  al.  have  “ too  high  ” for  but  high. 


182 


NOTES. 


1143.  O'erstrazv'd.  Overstrewn;  used  of  course  for  the  rhyme.  The 
4th  ed.  has  “ ore-straw.” 

1144.  Truest.  The  reading  of  the  first  three  eds. ; “sharpest”  in  the 
rest. 

1148.  Measures.  P'or  measure  grave  and  formal  dance,  see  Rich. 
II.  p.  168. 

1 15 1.  Raging-mad  and  silly-mild.  The  hyphens  were  first  inserted  by 
Malone. 

1157.  Toward.  Forward,  eager.  Cf.  P.  P.  13,  T.  of  S.  v.  2.  182,  etc. 
For  shows  the  5th  and  later  eds  have  “seems  ” or  “seemes.” 

1 162.  Combustions.  Combustible  ; used  by  S.  nowhere  else. 

1163.  Sith.  See  on  762  above. 

1164.  Loves.  “Love”  in  the  4th  and  later  eds. 

1168.  A purple  flower.  The  anemone.  The  4th  ed.  has  “purpul’d.” 
1174.  Reft.  See  on  766  above. 

1183.  Here  in.  The  reading  of  the  1st  and  2d  eds.  ; “here  is”  in  the 
rest. 

1187.  In  an  hour.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “of”  for  in. 

1190.  Doves.  See  on  153  above. 

1193.  Paphos.  A town  in  Cyprus,  the  chief  seat  of  the  worship  of 
Venus.  Cf.  Temp.  iv.  1.  93  and  Per . iv.  prol.  32. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 

The  Dedication. — 2.  Moiety.  Often  used  by  S.  of  a portion  other 
than  an  exact  half.  See  Ham.  p.  174. 

6.  Would.  The  reading  of  the  first  three  eds.;  “should”  in  the  rest. 

The  Argument. — “This  appears  to  have  been  written  by  Shake- 
speare, being  prefixed  to  the  original  edition  of  1594 ; and  is  a curiosity, 
this  and  the  two  dedications  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton  being  the  only 
prose  compositions  of  our  great  poet  (not  in  a dramatic  form)  now  re- 
maining” (Malone). 

3 .Requiring.  Asking.  Cf.  Hen.  VIII.  ii.  4.  144  : “ In  humblest  man- 
ner I require  your  highness,”  etc. 

14.  Disports.  P'or  the  noun,  cf.  Oth.  i.  3.  272,  the  only  other  instance 
in  S. 

The  Rape  of  Lucrece. — For  the  title,  see  p.  11  above.  The  Camb. 
editors  give  “ The  Rape  of  Lucrece  ” throughout. 

1.  Ardea.  As  D.  notes,  S.  accents  the  word  on  the  first  syllable,  as  it 
should  be.  The  Var.  of  1821  and  some  other  eds.  have  “besieg’d,” 
which  requires  “ Ardea.” 

In  post.  Cf.  C.  of  E.  i.  2.  63 : “I  from  my  mistress  come  to  you  in 
post,”  etc.  We  find  “ in  all  post  ” in  Rich.  III.  iii.  5.  73. 

3.  Lust-breathed.  Animated  by  lust. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE . 


183 


8.  Unhappily.  The  early  eds.  have  “ vnhap’ly  ” or  “ vnhaply,”  except 

the  7th,  which  misprints  “ unhappy.”  . 

9.  Bateless.  Not  to  be  blunted.  Cf.  unbated  in  Ham.  iv.  7.  139  and  v. 

2.  328.  See  also  the  verb  bate  in  L.  L.  L.  i.  1.  6.  ... 

10.  Let.  “ Forbear  ” (Malone).  Cf.  328  below,  where  it  is  = hinder. 

14.  Aspects.  Accented  on  the  first  syllable,  as  regularly  in  S.  Cf.  452 

below.  , . . ..  ...  „ 

19.  Such  high-proud.  The  5th,  6th,  and  7th  eds.  have  “so  high  a. 

21.  Peer.  The  reading  of  the  1st  ed.  ; “ prince  ” in  all  the  rest. 

23.  Done.  Brought  to  an  end,  ruined.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  197,  749,  A.  W. 

^'26^ Expir'd.  Accented  on  the  first  syllable  because  preceding  a noun 
so  accented.  Cf.  unstain'd  in  87,  extreme  in  230,  supreme  in  780,  unfelt  in 
828,  dispers'd  in  1805,  etc.  The  5th,  6th,  and  7th  eds.  have  “ A date  ex- 
pir’d : and  canceld  ere  begun.” 

37.  Suggested.  Incited,  tempted.  See  Rich.  II.  p.  153,  note  on  101. 

40.  Braving  compare.  Challenging  comparison.  For  the  noun,  cf.  V. 
and  A.  8,  Sonn.  21.  5> etc*  ,,  . . , , - A/r  , 

44.  A ll-too-timeless.  Too  unseasonable  ; first  hyphened  by  Malone. 

47.  Liver.  For  the  liver  as  the  seat  of  sensual  passion,  cf.  Temp.  iv.  1. 
z6  M.  W.  ii.  1.  1.2 1,  etc.  For  glows  the  7th  ed.  has  “growes.” 

49.  Blasts.  For  the  intransitive  use,  cf.  T.  G.of  V.i.  I.  48  : “blasting 

in  the  bud.”  , , . . . ..  , 

56.  O'er.  “ Ore  ” or  “ or’e  ” in  the  early  eds.  Malone  was  inclined 
to  take  it  as  the  noun  ore  “in  the  sense  of  or  or  got  a." 

58.  Venus'  doves.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  153  and  1190. 

57.  In  that  white  intituled.  Consisting  in  that  whiteness,  or  taking  its 

title  from  it  (Steevens).  . Trr  ..  . ...  0 ^ 

63.  Fence.  Defend,  guard  ; as  in  3 Hen.  VI.  11.  6.  75, 111.  3.  98,  etc. 

72.  Field.  There  is  a kind  of  play  upon  the  word  in  its  heraldic  sense 
and  that  of  a field  of  battle. 

71.  War  of  lilies  and  of  roses.  Steevens  compares  Cor.  11.  1.  232  and 
V.  and  A.  345  ; and  Malone  adds  T.  of  S.v.  2.  30. 

82.  That  praise  which  Collatine  doth  owe.  Malone  and  0.  make  praise 
— object  of  praise,  and  owe  - possess.  This  interpretation  seems  forced 
and  inconsistent  with  the  next  line,  which  they  do  not  explain.  We  pre- 
fer to  take  both  praise  and  owe  in  the  ordinary  sense.  For  owe  — pos- 
sess, see  Rich.  II.  p.  204,  and  cf.  1803  below.  ...  , , 

87.  Unstain'd  thoughts . The  words  are  transposed  in  the  5th  and 

later  eds.  # 

88.  Lim'd.  Ensnared  by  bird-lime.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  233. 

89.  Securely.  Unsuspiciously.  Cf.  M.  W.  ii.  2.  252,  K.  John,  11.  I.  374, 
etc. 

92.  For  that  he  colour'd.  For  that  inward  ill  he  covered  or  disguised. 
93  Plaits.  That  is,  plaited  robes.  The  old  eds.  spell  it  “pleats.” 
Boswell  quotes  Lear,  i.  1.  183  : “Time  shall  unfold  what  plaited  cunning 
hides.”  These  are  the  only  instances  of  the  words  in  S. 

94.  That.  So  that.  See  on  V.  and  A.  242.  For  inordinate , cf.  1 Hen . 
IV.  iii.2.  12  and  Oth.  ii.  3.  31 1. 


NOTES . 


i-  84 

100.  Purling.  Speaking,  significant.  The  verb  occurs  again  m A / , 
L.  v.  2.  122.  & 

102.  Murgents . Margins.  For  other  allusions  to  the  practice  of  writ- 
ing explanations  and  comments  in  the  margin  of  books,  see  M.  N.  D 
p.  142. 

104.  Moralize.  Interpret  Cf.  T.  of  S.  iv.  4.  81  : 

“Biondello.  F aith,  nothing ; but  has  left  me  here  behind,  to  expound  the  meaning  or 
moral  of  his  signs  and  tokens.  & 

Lucentio.  I pray  thee,  moralize  them.’* 

See  also  Rich.  III.  p.  209. 

106.  Stories.  For  the  verb,  cf.  V.  and  A.  1013. 

1 17.  Mother.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  change  this  to  “sad  source-” 
and  stows  in  1 19  to  “shuts.”  For  stows,  cf.  Oth.  i.  2.  62  : “where  hast 
thou  stow’d  my  daughter  ?” 

121.  Intending.  Pretending.  See  Rich.  III.  p.  215.  For  stright,  see 

on  V.  and  A.  181.  * 

122.  Questioned.  Talked,  conversed.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  iv.  i.  70,  etc. 

125.  Themselves  betake.  The  Bodleian  copy  of  1st  ed.  (see  p!  1 1 above) 
has  himseife  betakes,’7  and  “wakes”  in  the  next  line ; and  these  are 
the  readings  in  the  Var.  of  1821. 

*33'  Though  death  be  adjunct.  Cf.  K.  Joint , iii.  3.  57:  “Though  that 
mv  death  were  adjunct  to  my  act.”  These  are  the  only  instances  of 
adjunct  in  S.  except  Sonn.  91.  5. 

135.  For  what,  etc.  The  first  four  eds.  have  “That  what,”  etc.,  and 
die  rest  “That  oft,”  etc.  The  earliest  reading  may  be  explained  after  a 
fashion,  as  by  Malone  : “ Poetically  speaking,  they  may  be  said  to  scat- 
ter what  they  have  not , that  is,  what  they  cannot  be  truly  said  to  have; 
what  they  do  not  enjoy,  though  possessed  of  it.”  Malone  compares  Dan- 
iel, Rosamond : “As  wedded  widows,  wanting  what  we  have;”  and  the 
same  author’s  Cleopatra : “For  what  thou  hast,  thou  still  dost  Iacke.” 

“ l am  avaro  deest  quod  habet,  quam  quod  non  habet  ” is  one  of  the 
sayings  of  Publius  Syrus.  But  we  have  little  hesitation  in  adopting 
Staunton’s  conjecture  of  For  what,  etc.,  as  do  the  Camb.  editors  (in  the 
“Globe”  ed.)  and  H.  It  is  supported  by  the  context:  they  scatter  or 
spend  what  they  have  in  trying  to  get  what  they  have  not,  and  so  by 
hoping  more  they  have  but  less.  Bond  must  here  be  = ownership,  or  that 
which  a bond  claims  or  secures.  The  reading  of  the  5th  ed.  seems  to  be 
a clumsy  attempt  to  mend  the  corruption  of  the  1st. 

140.  Bankrupt.  Spelled  “ backrout,”  “ banckrout,”  or  “ bankrout  ” in 
the  early  eds.  See  on  V.  and  A.  466. 

144.  Gage.  Stake,  risk. 

150.  Ambitious  foul.  Walker  would  read  “ambitious-foul.” 

^ 160.  Confounds.  Ruins,  destroys;  as  in  250,  1202,  and  1489  below. 
Cf.  confusion  — ruin,  in  1159  below. 

164.  Comfortable.  Comforting.  See  Lear , p.  193,  or  Gr.  3. 

167.  Silly.  See  on  V.and  A.  1098. 

168.  JVakes.  Malone  and  some  others  have  “ wake.”  See  Gr.  336. 

174.  Too  too.  D.  and  H.  print  “ too-too.”  See  M.  of  V.  p.  143.  For 

retire  as  a noun,  cf.  573  below. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  185 

177.  That.  So  that.  See  on  94  above.  The  5th  and  following  eds. 
have  “doth”  for  do. 

179.  Lode-star,  The  preftrab  e spelling.  S.  uses  the  word  again  in 

M,  N.  D.  i.  1.  1S3.  . . 0 , . _ 

180.  Advisedly.  Deliberately;  as  in  1527  and  1816  below. 

188.  Naked.  As  Schmidt  notes,  there  is  a kind  of  play  upon  the  word. 
Still-slaughtered  (first  hyphened  by  Malone)  =ever  killed  but  never  dying. 

196.  Weed.  Robe,  garment.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  p.  149* 

200.  Fancy's.  Love’s  ; as  often.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  148. 

202.  Digression.  Transgression ; as  in  L.  L.  L.  i.  2.  12 1 (see  our  ed. 

P 206^  Some  loathsome  dash , etc.  “ In  the  books  of  heraldry  a particu- 
lar mark  of  disgrace  is  mentioned  by  which  the  escutcheons  of  those 
persons  were  anciently  distinguished  who  ‘discourteously  used  a widow, 
maid,  or  wife,  against  her  will  ’ ” (Malone). 

207.  Fondly.  Foolishly.  Cf.  the  adjective  in  216,  284,  and  1094  be- 
low ; and  see  on  V.  and  A.  1021. 

208.  That.  So  that;  as  in  94  and  177  above.  Note  = brand,  stigma. 
See  Rich.  II.  p.  151,  note  on  43. 

217.  Strucken . The  early  eds.  have  “stroke,”  “stroken,”  or  “struck- 
en.”  See  on  V.  and  A.  462. 

221.  Marriage.  A trisyllable.  See  Per.  p.  141,  or  T.  of  S.  p.  152. 

230.  Extreme.  For  the  accent,  see  on  26  above. 

236.  Quittal.  Requital ; used  by  S.  only  here.  Cf.  quittance  in  2 Hen. 
IV.  i.  1.  108,  Hen.  V.  ii.  2.  34,  etc. 

239.  Ay , if.  The  first  four  eds.  have  “ I,  if”  (ay  is  regularly  printed  I 
in  the  early  eds.) ; the  rest  have  “ if  once.” 

244.  Saw.  Moral  saying,  maxim.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  197.  For  the  prac- 
tice of  putting  these  saws  on  the  pamted  cloth  or  hangings  of  the  poet’s 
time,  see  A.  Y.  L.  p.  176,  note  on  I answer  you  right  painted  cloth. 

246.  Disputation.  Metrically  five  syllables.  See  on  V.  and  A.  668. 

258.  Roses  that  on  lawn , etc.  Cf.  V.*and  A.  590. 

260.  How.  The  5th  and  later  ed; . have  “ now.” 

264.  Cheer.  Face,  look.  Cf.  M.  <sf  V.  p.  152. 

265.  Narcissus.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  16 1. 

268.  Pleadeth.  The  5th  and  following  eds.  have  “pleads,”  with 
“dreads”  and  “leades”  in  the  rhyming  lines.. 

274.  Then , childish  fear  avaunt ! etc.  In  this  line  and  the  next  we  fol- 
low the  pointing  of  the  early  eds.  Most  of  the  editors,  with  Malone, 
make  fear , debating , etc.,  vocatives. 

275.  Respect.  ‘‘Cautious  prudence”  (Malone),  consideration  of  conse- 
quences. Cf.  T.and  C.  p.  180. 

277.  Beseems.  Becomes.  For  the  number, see  on  168  above.  Sad— 
serious,  sober.  Cf.  the  noun  in  V.  and  A . 807* 

278.  My  part.  A metaphor  taken  from  the  stage.  Malone  sees  a spe- 
cial reference  to  the  conflicts  between  the  Devil  and  the  Vice  in  the  old 
moralities  (see  T.  N.  p.  1 59*  note  on  V ice), 

284.  Fond.  Foolish,  weak.  See  on  207  above. 

293.  Seeks  to.  Applies  to.  Cf.  Burton,  Anat.  of  Melan.:  “why  should 


i86 


NOTES. 


we  then  seek  to  any  other  but  to  him  ?”  See  also  Deni . xii.  5,  1 Kin<rs, 
x.  24,  Isa.  viii.  19,  xix.  3. 

301.  Marcheth.  The  5th  and  following  eds.  have  “doth  march;”  and 
in  303  “recites”  for  retires. 

303.  Retires  his  ward.  Draws  back  its  bolt.  For  the  transitive  verb, 
cf.  Rich.  11.  ii.  2.  46  : “ might  have  retir’d  his  power  and  for  ward  see 
T.  of  A.  iii.  3.  38  : “ Doors  that  were  ne’er  acquainted  with  their  wards  ” 
etc. 

308.  His  fear.  That  is,  the  object  of  his  fear.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.x.  1. 21  : 

“ Or  in  the  night,  imagining  some  fear, 

How  often  is  a bush  suppos’d  a bear!” 

313.  His  conduct.  That  which  conducts  or  guides  him.  Cf.  R.  and  J. 
iii.  1.  129:  “And  fire-eyed  fury  be  my  conduct  now  !”  and  Id.  v.  3.  116: 
“ Come,  bitter  conduct,  come,  unsavoury  guide,”  etc. 

319.  Needle.  Monosyllabic;  as  in  M.  N.  D.  iii.  2.  204  (see  our  ed.  p. 
165),  K.  John , v.  2.  157,  etc.  Some  print  it  “ neeld.”  See  Gr.  465. 

328.  Let.  Hinder.  Cf.  the  noun  just  below  ; and  see  Ham.  p.  195. 

331.  Prime.  Spring  ; as  in  Sonn.  97.  7,  etc. 

333.  Sneaped.  Nipped,  frost-bitten.  Cf.  L.  L.  L.  i.  1.  100  : 

“an  envious  sneaping  frost 
That  bites  the  first-born  infants  of  the  spring 

and  see  our  ed.  p.  130. 

347.  And  they.  Steevens  conjectured  “ And  he  ;”  but  power  is  treated 
as  a plural — perhaps  on  account  of  the  preceding  heavens.  Cf.  the  plural 
use  of  heaven , for  which  see  Rich.  II.  p.  157,  note  on  7. 

349.  Fact.  Deed.  Some  explain  it  as  “crime.”  See  Macb.  p.  22Z,  or 
W.  T.  p.  175. 

352.  Resolution.  Metrically  five  syllables.  See  on  246  above.  In  354 
the  5th  and  following  eds.  have  “ Blacke  ” for  The  blackest.  The  for- 
mer, it  will  be  seen,  will  satisfy  the  measure  if  absolution  is  made  five  syl- 
lables like  resolution. 

370.  Full.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “too.” 

372.  Fiery-pointed.  “Throwing  darts  with  points  of  fire”  (Schmidt). 
Steevens  wanted  to  read  “ fire-ypointed  ;”  and  the  meaning  of  fiery- 
pointed  may  possibly  be  pointed  (—appointed,  equipped)  with  fire. 

377.  Or  else  some  shame  suppos'd.  Or  else  some  shame  is  imagined 
by  them.  H.  has  the  following  curious  note  : “An  odd  use  oi  supposed, 
but  strictly  classical.  So  in  Chapman’s  Byron's  Conspiracy , 1608  : ‘ Fool- 
ish statuaries,  that  under  little  saints  suppose  great  bases,  make  less,  to 
sense,  the  saints.’  ” How  the  etymological  sense  of  supposed  (placed 
under)  can  suit  the  present  passage  it  is  not  easy  to  see. 

386.  Cheek.  The  reading  of  the  1st,  2d,  and  4th  eds.  ; plural  in  the 
rest. 

388.  Who.  See  on  V.  and  A.  891.  Cf.  447  and  461  below. 

389.  To  want.  At  wanting  or  missing.  Gr.  356. 

402.  Map.  Picture,  image.  Cf.  1712  below.  See  also  Rich.  II.  p.  207, 
note  on  Thou  map  of  honour. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE. 


i8> 


424.  Qualified.  “Softened,  abated,  diminished”  (Steevens).  Cf.  M. 
of  V.  iv.  1.  7,  W.  T.  iv.  4.  543’  etc. 

429.  Obdurate.  For  the  accent,  see  on  V.  and  A.  199. 

426*.  Commends.  “ Commits  ” (Malone). 

4^9.  Breast.  Made  plural  in  the  5th  and  following  eds. 

448.  Controlled.  Restrained.  Cf.  500,  678,  and  1781  below. 

4=a  Taking  Now  used  only  colloquially  in  this  sense.  Cf.  M.  W. 
iii.3  491  : “What  a taking  was  he  in  when  your  husband  asked  who 

* Wrapp'd.  Involved,  overwhelmed.  H.  reads  “ rapt.”  Cf.  636 

be4S8.*  Winking.  Shutting  her  eyes.  See  on  V.  and  A.  90. 

459.  Antics.  Fantastic  appearances.  The  early  eds.  have  antiques. 
See  M.  N.  D.  p.  179,  note  on  Antique. 

467.  Bulk.  Chest.  Cf.  Rich.  III.  p.  193-  That  = so  that;  as  in  94, 

177,  and  208  above.  . , c 

471  Heartless . Without  heart , or  courage;  as  in  1392  below,  bee 
also  R.  and  J.  i.  i.  73  : “ heartless  hinds.”  These  are  the  only  instances 

°f472.  ^ Petri  Lets  appear,  shows.  Elsewhere  in  S.  peer  is  intransitive. 
476*.  Colour.  Pretext.  For  the  play  on  the  word  in  the  reply,  cf.  2 Hen. 

IV.  v.  5*  91 : . 

“ Falstaff.  Sir,  I will  be  as  good  as  my  word  ; this  that  you  heard  was  but  a colour. 
Shallow.  A colour  that  I fear  you  will  die  m,  Sir  John. 

^493-  / think,  etc.  “ I am  aware  that  the  honey  is  guarded  with  a 
sting”  (Malone). 

496  Only.  For  the  transposition  of  the  adverb,  see  Gr.  420. 

497.  On  what  he  looks.  That  is,  on  what  he  looks  on.  See  Gr.  394. 
coo.  Affection's.  Passion’s,  lust’s.  C i.W.T.  p.  154. 

502.  Ensue.  Follow  ; as  in  Rich.  II.  ii.  1.  197  : “ Let  not  to-morrow, 
then,  ensue  to-day.”  See  also  1 Peter,  iii.  II. 

co6.  Toiverin*.  A technical  term  in  falconry.  See  Mach.  p.  203. 
Like  may  possibly  be  =w  (cf.  Per.  p.  143),  or  there  maY  be  ? “ confuslo“ 
of  construction  ” (see  Gr.  415).  H.  adopts  the  former  explanation,  and 
gives  the  impression  that  like  is  “ repeatedly  so  used  by  S.  4 he  fact  is, 
that  there  is  not  a single  clear  instance  of  it  in  all  his  works-  The  two 
examples  in  Pericles  are  not  in  Ms  part  of  the  play ; and  in  M.  JV.  H.  w. 
1.  178  (the  only  other  possible  case  of  the  kind)  the  reading  is  doubtful 
(see  our  ed.  p.  177),  and  with  either  reading  the  passage  may  be  pointed 
so  as  to  avoid  this  awkward  use  of  like.  If  S.  had  been  willing  to  em- 
ploy it,  he  would  probably  have  done  so  “ repeatedly  ; but  it  seems  to 
have  been  no  part  of  his  English.  . 

507.  Coucheth.  Causes  to  couch  or  cower.  Cf.  the  intransitive  use  in 

A.  W.  iv.  1.24,  etc.  f 1 

r 1 1 Falcon's  bells.  For  the  bells  attached  to  the  necks  of  tame  fal- 
cons, cf.  A.  Y.  L.  iii.  3.  81  and  3 Hen.  VI.  i.  1. 47  (see  our  ed.  p.  141). 

522.  Nameless.  “ Because  an  illegitimate  child  has  no  name  by  inher- 
itance, being  considered  by  the  law  as  nullius  films"  (Malone).  Ci.  1. 


NOTES. 


188 

G.  of  V.  iii.  i.  321  : “bastard  virtues,  that  indeed  know  not  their  fathers, 
and  therefore  have  no  names.” 

530.  Simple.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  iv.  1.  16:  “compounded  of  many  simples,” 
etc. 

531.  A pure  compound.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “purest  com- 
pounds.” In  the  next  line,  his  — its.  Pui'ified— rendered  harmless. 

534.  Tender.  Favour.  It  is  often  similarly  used  (= regard  or  treat 
kindly) ; as  in  T.  G.  of  V.  iv.  4.  145,  C.  of  E.  v.  1.  132,  etc. 

537.  Wipe.  Brand  ; the  only  instance  of  the  noun  in  S.  For  birth - 
hour's  blot , cf.  M.  N.  D.  v.  1.  416 : 

“And  the  blots  of  Nature’s  hand 
Shall  not  in  their  issue  stand  ; 

Never  mole,  hare-lip,  nor  scar, 

Nor  mark  prodigious,  such  as  are 
Despised  in  nativity, 

Shall  upon  their  children  be.” 

540.  Cockatrice ’ dead-killing  eye.  For  the  fabled  cockatrice,  or  basi- 
lisk, which  was  supposed  to  kill  with  a glance  of  its  eye,  see  Hen.  V.  p. 
183,  note  on  The  fatal  balls. 

543.  Gripe's.  Griffin’s  (Steevens).  The  word  is  often  =vulture  ; as  in 
Sidney’s  Astrophel : 

“ Upon  whose  breast  a fiercer  gripe  doth  tire, 

Than  did  on  him  who  first  stole  down  the  fire 

Ferrex  and  Porrex : “ Or  cruel  gripe  to  gnaw  my  growing  harte,”  etc. 
For  allusions  to  the  griffin,  see  M.  N.  D.  ii.  1.  232  and  1 Hen.  IV.  iii.  1.  152. 

547.  But.  The  reading  of  all  the  early  eds.  Changed  by  Sewell  to 
“ As,”  and  by  Malone  to  “ Look.”  Boswell  explains  the  text  thus  : “ He 
knows  no  gentle  right,  but  still  her  words  delay  him,  as  a gentle  gust 
blows  away  a black-faced  cloud.” 

550.  Blows.  The  early  eds.  have  “blow;”  corrected  by  Malone. 

553.  Winks.  Shuts  his  eyes,  sleeps.  See  on  458  above.  For  Orpheus , 
•cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  iii.  2.  78,  M.  of  V.  v.  1.  80,  Hen.  VIII.  iii.  1.  3,  and  T.  A.  ii. 
4-  51- 

559.  Plaining.  Complaining.  See  Lear,  p.  216,  or  Rich.  II.  p.  164. 
565.  His.  Its  ; as  in  532  above.  Steevens  quotes  M.  N.  D.  v.  1.  96 : 
“ Make  periods  in  the  midst  of  sentences,”  etc. 

568.  Conjures.  The  accent  in  S.  is  on  either  syllable  without  regard 
to  the  sense.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  p.  164. 

569.  Gentry.  His  gentle  birth.  Cf.  W.  T.  i.  2.  393,  Cor.  iii.  I.  144,  etc. 
576.  Pretended.  Intended  ; as  in  T.  G.  of  V.  ii.  6.  37  : “ their  pretend- 
ed flight,”  etc. 

579.  Shoot.  For  the  noun,  cf.  L.  L.  L.  iv.  1.  10,  12,  26,  2 Hen.  IV.  iii.  2. 
49,  etc.  Malone  conjectures  “suit,”  with  a play  on  the  word,  which  was 
then  pronounced  shoot.  See  L.  L.  L.  p.  144,  note  on  103. 

580.  Woodman.  Huntsman.  See  M.  W.  p.  164. 

581.  Unseasonable.  Cf.  M.  W.  iii.  3.  169 ; and  see  our  ed.  p.  154,  note 
on  Of  the  season. 

592.  Convert.  For  the  intransitive  use,  cf.  691  below.  See  also  Rick. 
II.  p.  210.  For  the  rhyme,  cf.  Sonn.  14.  12,  17.  2,  49.  10,  72.  6,  etc. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


189 


c9$.  At  an  iron  gate . Even  at  the  gates  of  a prison  (Steevens). 

607.  Be  remember' d.  Remember,  bear  in  mind.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  p.  184, 

note  on  / am  remember' d.  . . , ..... 

609.  In  clay.  That  is,  even  in  their  graves.  1 heir  misdeeds  will  live 

after  them.  _ „ 

615,  616.  For  princes  are  the  glass , etc.  For  the  arrangement,  see  Ham. 

p.  219,  note  on  15 1.  . , . . 

618  Lectures.  Lessons.  Elsewhere  in  S.  read  lectures^-  give  lessons, 
not  receive  them.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  iii.  2.  365,  T.  of  S.  i.  2.  148,  Cor.  11.  3. 


243,  etc.  . 

622.  Laud.  Cf.  887  below,  2 Hen.  II . iv.  5*  23^j  e^c*  . 

637.  Askance . Turn  aside;  the  only  instance  of  the  verb  in  b. 

Schmidt  paraphrases  the  line  thus:  “who,  in  consequence  of  their  own 
misdeeds,  look  with  indifference  on  the  offences  of  others.” 

639.  Lust , thy  rash  relier . “That  is,  lust  which  confides  too  rashly 
in  thy  present  disposition  and  does  not  foresee  its  necessary  change” 
(Schmidt).  The  5th  and  following  eds.  have  “reply”  for  relier. 

640.  Repeal.  Recall.  Cf.  J.  C.  p.  157. 

643.  Eyne.  See  on  V.  and  A.  632.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have 
“ eies ;”  and  in  649  “ pretty  ” for  petty. 

646.  Let.  Hindrance  ; as  in  330  above. 

6ci  To  his.  The  reading  of  the  1st  and  2d  eds.  The  3d  has  to 

the,”  and  the  others  “ to  this.”  The  7th  has  also  “ not  thee  ” for  not  his. 

6«.  Who.  See  on  388  above. 

6S7-  Puddle's.  The  reading  of  1st,  2d,  and  4th  eds.  ; the  others  have 
“puddle.”  For  hears'd  the  5th  and  6th  have  “ bersed,”  and  the  7th 
“ persed.”  Hears'd  is  found  also  in  M.  of  V.  iii.  I.  93  and  Ham.  1.  4-  47- 

661.  Thy  fouler  grave.  H.  points  “ thy  fouler,  grave  ;”  and  adds  this 
strange  note  : “ Grave  is  here  a verb,  meaning  to  bury  or  be  the  death 
of”  He  seems  to  take  the  line  to  mean,  Thou  buriest  their  fair  life, 
and  they  bury  thy  fouler  life  ; but  how  he  would  explain  the  former 
clause  we  cannot  guess.  Of  course  the  meaning  is,  Thou  art  their  fan: 
life — a repetition  of  the  idea  in  they  basely  dignified. 

678.  Controll'd.  See  on  448  above. 

680.  Nightly.  The  5th  and  6th  eds.  misprint  “ mighty. 

684.  Prone.  Headlong.  The  3d,  5th,  6th,  and  7th  eds.  have  “proud. 

691.  Converts.  Changes.  See  on  592  above. 

696.  Balk.  Disregard,  neglect.  Cf.  Davies,  Scourge  of  Folly,  1611  : 

“ Learn'd  and  judicious  lord,  if  I should  balke 
Thyne  honor’d  name,  it  being  in  my  way, 

My  muse  unworthy  were  of  such  a walke, 

Where  honors  branches  make  it  ever  May. 

698.  Fares.  The  5th  and  6th  eds.  have  “feares,”and  in  706  “of 
reine”  for  or  rein. 

701.  Conceit.  Conception,  thought.  Cf.  1298  below. 

703.  His  receipt.  What  he  has  received;  as  in  Cor.  i.  1.  116: 

“The  discontented  members,  the  mutinous  parts 
That  envied  his  receipt 

that  is,  the  stomach’s. 


NOTES . 


190 

707.  Till , like  a jade,  etc.  Steevens  aptly  quotes  Hen.  VIII.  i.  1. 132  : 

“Anger  is  like 

A full-hot  horse,  who  being  allow’d  his  way, 

Self-mettle  tires  him.” 

For  jade  (—a  worthless  or  vicious  horse),  cf.  V.  and  A.  391. 

721.  The  spotted  princess.  The  polluted  soul.  For  spotted,  cf.  M.  N. 
D.  i.  1.  no,  Rich.  II.  iii.  2.  134,  etc. 

728.  Forestall.  Prevent;  as  in  2 Hen.  IV.  iv.  5.  141,  etc.  The  7th 
ed<>  has  “forest,  all ;”  as  “presence”  for  prescience  in  727,  and  “swear- 
ing” for  sweating  in  740. 

733.  Perplex'd.  Bewildered,  confounded.  Cf.  Oth.  v.  2.  346  : “ Per- 
plex’d in  the  extreme,”  etc. 

741.  Exclaiming  on.  Crying  out  against.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  930. 

743.  Convertite.  Convert,  penitent.  The  word  is  found  also  in  A..  Y. 
L.  v.  4.  190  and  K.  John , v.  1.  19. 

747.  Scapes . Transgressions;  as  in  W.  T.  iii.  3.  73:  “some  scape,” 
etc. 

752.  Be.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “ lie.” 

766.  Black  stage.  In  the  time  of  S.  the  stage  was  hung  with  black 
when  tragedies  were  performed  (Malone).  Cf.  1 Hen.  VI.  p.  140,  note 
on  Hung  be  the  heavens  with  black. 

768.  Defame.  Cf.  817  and  1033  below.  These  are  the  only  instances 
of  the  noun  in  S. 

774.  Proportion'd.  “ Regular,  orderly  ” (Schmidt). 

780.  Supreme.  For  the  accent,  see  on  26  above. 

781.  Arrive.  For  the  transitive  use,  cf.  J.  C.  i.  2.  no,  Cor.  ii.  3.  189, 

etc.  For  dial-point,  see  R.  and  J.  p.  175,  note  on  Prick  of  noon. 

782.  Misty . The  1st  and  2d  eds.  have  “mustie  ;”  corrected  in  the  3d 
ed.,  which,  however,  misprints  “ vapour  ” for  vapours. 

783.  In  their  smoky  ranks  his  smother'd  light.  That  is,  his  light 
smothered  in  their  smoky  ranks.  Gr.  419^?. 

786.  Distain.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “disdaine.” 

791.  Palmers \ Pilgrims’.  See  A.  W.  p.  161. 

792.  Where.  Whereas.  See  L.  L.  L.  p.  136,  or  Gr.  134. 

805.  Sepidchred.  For  the  accent,  see  Lear , p.  210. 

807.  Character' d.  For  the  accent,  see  Ham.  p.  189. 

81 1.  Cipher.  Decipher ; used  by  S.  only  here  and  in  207  and  1396  of 
this  poem. 

812.  Quote.  Note,  observe.  Cf.  R.  and  J.  p.  154.  The  word  is  spelled 
cote  in  the  1st  and  2d  eds.  Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  p.  132. 

817.  Feast-finding.  “Our  ancient  minstrels  were  the  constant  attend- 
ants on  feasts”  (Steevens).  Their  music  of  course  made  them  welcome. 

820.  Senseless.  Not  sensible  of  the  wrong  done  it. 

828.  Crest-wounding.  Staining  or  disgracing  the  family  crest  or  coat 
of  arms. 

830.  Mot.  Motto,  or  word, \ as  it  was  sometimes  called.  See  Per. 
p.  140. 

841.  Guilty.  Malone  reads  “guiltless.”  Sewell  makes  the  line  a ques- 
tion ; but,  as  Boswell  says,  Lucrece  at  first  reproaches  herself  for  hav- 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRE CE. 


191 

ing  received  Tarquin’s  visit,  but  instantly  defends  herself  by  saying  that 
she  did  it  out  of  respect  to  her  husband. 

848.  Intrude.  Invade  ; not  elsewhere  transitive  in  S. 

849.  Cuckoos.  For  the  allusion  to  the  cuckoo’s  laying  its  eggs  in  other 
birds’  nests,  see  the  long  note  in  1 Hen.  IV.  p.  195. 

851.  Folly.  “ Used,  as  in  Scripture,  for  wickedness  ” (Malone).  Schmidt 
explains  it  as  “inordinate  desire,  wantonness,”  both  here  and  in  556 
above.  Cf.  Oth.  v.  2.  132  : “ She  turn’d  to  folly,  and  she  was  a whore  ;” 
and  see  our  ed.  p.  206. 

858.  Still-pining.  Ever-longing.  Cf.  “ still-vex’d  ” {Temp.  i.  2.  229), 
“ still-closing  ” {Id.  iii.  3.  64),  etc.  For  Tantalus , see  V.  and  A.  599. 

859.  Barns.  Stores  up  ; the  only  instance  of  the  verb  in  S.  The  5th 
and  later  eds.  have  “bannes”  or  “bans.” 

879.  Point'' st.  Appointest;  but  not  to  be  printed  “’point’st,”  as  by 
some  editors.  Cf.  T.  of  S.  p.  148. 

884.  Temperance . Chastity.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  p.  201. 

892.  Smoothing.  Flattering.  See  Rich.  III.  p.  188.  The  5th  and  fol- 
lowing eds.  have  “ smothering.” 

899.  Sort.  Sort  out,  select.  Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  p.  144. 

914.  Appaid.  Satisfied  ; used  by  S.  only  here. 

920.  Shift.  Trickery.  Nares  (s.  v.  Shifter)  quotes  Rich  Cabinet  fur- 
nished with  Varietie  of  Excellent  Descriptions , 1616  : “ Shifting  doth  many 
times  incurre  the  indignitie  of  reproach,  and  to  be  counted  a shifter  is  as 
if  a man  would  say  in  plaine  tearmes  a coosener.”  Cf.  930  below. 

925.  Copesmate.  Companion  ; used  by  S.  nowhere  else. 

926.  Grisly.  Grim,  terrible.  Cf.  1 Hen.  VI.  p.  145. 

928.  Watch  of  woes.  “ Divided  and  marked  only  by  woes”  (Schmidt). 
Cf.  Mac b.  p.  187,  note  on  Whose  howls  his  7vatch. 

930.  Injurious , shifting.  St.,  D.,  and  H.  adopt  Walker’s  conjecture  of 
“injurious-shifting  but  shifting  may  be  —cozening,  deceitful.  See  on 
920  just  above. 

936.  Fine.  Explained  by  Malone  as  = soften,  refine,  and  by  Steevens 
as  = bring  to  an  end.  The  latter  is  on  the  whole  to  be  preferred. 

943.  Wrong  the  wronger.  That  is,  treat  him  as  he  treats  others,  make 
him  suffer.  Farmer  would  read  “wring”  for  wi'ong. 

944.  Ruinate.  Cf.  Sonn.  10.  7 : “ Seeking  that  beauteous  roof  to  ruin- 
ate,” etc. 

With  thy  hours.  Steevens  conjectures  “with  their  bowers,”  and  Ma- 
lone was  at  first  inclined  to  read  “with  his  hours.” 

948.  To  blot  old  books  and  alter  their  contents.  As  Malone  remarks,  S. 
little  thought  how  the  fate  of  his  own  compositions  would  come  to  illus- 
trate this  line. 

950.  Cherish  springs.  That  is,  young  shoots.  Cf.  V.and  A.  656..  Warb. 
wanted  to  read  “tarish”  ( = dry  up,  from  Fr.  tarir) ; Heath  conjectured 
“sere  its;”  and  Johnson  “perish.” 

953.  Beldam.  Grandmother ; as  in  1458  below. 

962.  Retiring.  Returning  ; as  in  T.  and  C.  i.  3-  281,  etc. 

981.  Curled  hair.  “ A distinguishing  characteristic  of  a person  of 
rank”  (Malone).  Cf.  Oth.  p.  160,  note  on  Curled. 


192 


NOTES. 


985.  Or/s.  Scraps,  remnants.  Cf.  T.  and  C.  v.  2.  158  and  T.  of  A.  iv. 
3.  400. 

993.  Unrecalling.  Not  to  be  recalled.  See  Gr.  372.  For  crime,  the 
4th  and  following  eds.  have  “time.” 

1001.  Slanderous.  Disgraceful;  as  in  J.  C.  iv.  1.  20:  “To  ease  our- 
selves of  divers  slanderous  loads.”  The  office  of  executioner,  or  deaths- 
nian  (cf.  Lear,  p.  248),  was  regarded  as  ignominious. 

1016.  Out.  The  4th  and  following  eds.  have  “Our.” 

1021.  Force  not.  Regard  not,  care  not  for.  See  L . L.  L.  p.  161. 

1024.  Uncheerful.  The  4th  and  later  eds.  have  “ unsearchfull.” 

1027.  Helpless.  Unavailing;  as  in  1056  below.  See  on  V.  and  A.  604. 

1035.  Afeard.  Used  by  S.  interchangeably  with  afraid. 

1045.  Mean.  For  the  singular,  see  R.  and  J.  p.  189. 

1062.  Graff.  Graft.  All  the  early  eds.  except  the  1st  and  2d  have 
“grasse.” 

1070.  With  my  trespass  never  will  dispense . That  is,  will  never  excuse 
it.  Cf.  1279  and  1704  below.  See  C.  ofE.p.  117,  note  on  103. 

1079.  Philomel.  The  nightingale.  Cf.  1 128  below. 

^ 1084.  Cloudy.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  725.  See  also  1 Hen.  IV.  p.  180,  note  on 
Cloudy  men.  For  shames— is  ashamed,  cf.  1143  below. 

1092.  Nought  to  do.  That  is,  nothing  to  do  with,  no  concern  in. 

1094.  Fond.  Foolish;  as  in  216  above. 

1105.  Sometime.  The  4th  and  following  eds.  have  “ sometimes.”  The 
two  forms  are  used  indiscriminately. 

1109.  Annoy.  See  on  V.  and  A.  497. 

1 1 14.  Ken.  Sight.  Cf.  2 Hen.  VI.  iii.  2.  1 13  : “losing  ken  of  Al- 
bion’s wished  coast,”  etc. 

1 1 19.  Who.  See  on  388  above. 

1124.  Stops.  Referring  to  the  slops  of  musical  instruments.  Cf.  Ham. 
iii.  2.  76,  376,  381,  etc. 

1 126.  Relish  your  nimble  notes  to  pleasing  ears.  Tune  your  lively  notes 
for  those  who  like  to  hear  them.  With  pleasing  cf.  unrecalling  in  993 
above. 

1127.  Dumps.  Mournful  elegies.  Cf.  T.  G.  of  V*.  iii.  2.  85  : “Tune  a 
deploring  dump.”  See  also  Much  Ado,  p.  137. 

1128.  Of  ravishment.  Referring  to  her  being  ravished  by  Tereus. 
See  T.  A.  ii.  4.  26  fol.  and  iv.  1.  48  fol. 

1132.  Diapason.  Used  by  S.  only  here. 

1133.  Burden-wise.  As  in  the  burden  of  a song. 

1 134.  Descant' st.  Singest.  For  the  noun,  see  T.  G.  of  V.  p.  125.  Here 
the  early  eds.  all  have  “descants.”  See  Gr.  340.  Skill  must  be  regarded 
as  the  direct  object  of  descant' st,  not  governed  by  with  understood,  as 
Malone  makes  it,  pointing  “descant’st,  better  skill.” 

Ir35*  Against  a thorn.  The  nightingale  was  supposed  to  press  her 
breast  against  a thorn  while  singing.  See  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  p.  179, 
note  on  25. 

1140.  Frets.  The  stops  that  regulated  the  vibration  of  the  strings  in 
lutes,  etc.  See  Ham.  p.  230,  or  Much  Ado,  p.  144  (on  A lute-string). 

1142.  And  for.  And  because. 


PREFACE. 


Shakespeare’s  Poem j have  generally  received  less  attention  from 
editors  and  commentators  than  his  plays,  and  in  some  editions  they  are 
omitted  altogether.  It  has  been  my  aim  to  treat  them  with  the  same 
thoroughness  as  the  plays.  All  varies  lectiones  likely  to  be  of  interest  to 
the  student  are  recorded.  The  1599  edition  of  Venus  and  Adonis  is  col- 
lated  for  the  first  time,  so  far  as  I am  aware,  though  it  was  discovered 
some  fifteen  years  ago.  Certain  of  the  recent  editors  do  not  appear  to 
know  of  its  existence. 

The  text  is  given  without  expurgation.  The  Rape  of  Lucrece  needs 
none,  and  the  Venus  and  Adonis  (like  the  sonnets  on  the  same  subject 
in  The  Passionate  Pilgrim)  does  not  admit  of  it  without  being  mutilated 
past  recognition.  Of  course  these  poems  will  never  be  read  in  schools 
or  “Shakespeare  clubs.” 

In  The  Passionate  Pilgrim , the  pieces  which  are  certainly  not  Shake- 
speare’s are  transferred  from  the  text  to  the  Notes.  Most  of  the  others 
are  of  doubtful  authenticity,  but  I give  Shakespeare  the  benefit— if  bene- 
fit it  be— of  the  doubt.  A Lover's  Complaint  is  generally  conceded  to  be 
his;  and  The  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle  has,  I think,  a better  claim  to  be 
so  regarded  than  anything  in  The  Passionate  Pilgrim . These  points, 
however,  are  more  fully  discussed  in  the  Notes. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


*93 


114^.  Shaming.  Being  ashamed  ; as  in  1084  above. 

1 144.  Seated  from  the  way.  Situated  out  of  the  way. 

1149 . At  gaze.  Staring  about. 

1160.  Conclusion.  Experiment.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  p.  217.  „ „ 

1167.  Peel'd.  Here  and  in  1169  the  early  eds.  have  pil  d,  pdd, 
or  “ pill’d  and  this  last  form  might  well  enough  be  retained.  Cf.  Gen. 

XXX  Tk7  ^o# 

1186.’  Deprive.  Take  away  ; as  in  1752  below.  See  Ham.  p.  195. 

1202.  Confound.  Ruin  ; as  in  160  above. 

1203.  Oversee.  The  overseer  of  a will  was  one  who  had  a supervision 
of  the  executors.  The  poet,  in  his  will,  appoints  John  Hall  and  his  wife 
as  executors , and  Thomas  Russel  and  Francis  Collins  as  overseers.  In  some 
old  wills  the  term  overseer  is  used  instead  of  executor  ( Malone). 

1206.  Overseen.  Bewitched,  as  by  the  “evil  eye.  Cf.  o erlooked  in 
M.  IV.  v.  S.  87  and  M.  of  V.  iii.  2.  15  (see  our  ed.  p.  148). 

1221.  Sorts.  Adapts,  as  if  choosing  or  selecting.  Cf.  899  above.  See 

also  2 Hen.  VI.  p.  162.  „ 0 , c n ' n r 1/ 

1222.  For  why.  Because  ; as  in  P.  P.  5.  8,  10,  etc.  See  T.  C.  of  V. 

p.  139,  or  Gr.  75. 

1229.  Eyne.  See  on  643  above.  . . , 

1211  Pretty.  In  this  and  similar  expressions  pretty  may  be  explained 
as  =“ moderately  great”  (Schmidt),  or  “suitable,  sufficient,  as  some 
make  it.  Cf.  R.  and  J.  i.  3.  10  : “a  pretty  age,”  etc. 

1241.  And  therefore  are  they , etc.  “ Hence  do  they  (women)  receive 
whatever  impression  their  marble-hearted  associates  ( men ) choose 
(Malone). 

1242.  Strange  kinds.  Alien  or  foreign  natures. 

1244.  Then  call  them  not , etc.  Malone  compares  T.  N.  n.  2.  30  : 

“How  easy  is  it  for  the  proper- false 
In  women’s  waxen  hearts  to  set  their  forms ! 

Alas,  our  frailty  is  the  cause,  not  we, 

For  such  as  we  are  made  of,  such  we  be ; 

and  M.  for  M.  ii.  4-  *3°  : 

“ Women  ! Help  Heaven  ! men  their  creation  mar 
In  profiting  by  them.  Nay,  call  us  ten  times  frail. 

For  we  are  soft  as  our  complexions  are, 

And  credulous  to  false  prints.” 

1247.  Like  a goodly.  The  5th  and  6th  eds.  have  simply  “ like  a,”  and 
the  7th  reads  “ like  unto  a.”  . . 

1254.  No  man  inveigh.  Let  no  man  inveigh.  All  the  eds.  but  the 

1st  have  “ inveighs.”  , 

1257.  Hild.  For  held , for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme.  The  5th  and  later 
eds.  have  “held.”  Cf.  Spenser,  F.  Q.  iv.  11.  17  : 


1 How  can  they  all  in  this  so  narrow  verse 
Contayned  be,  and  in  small  compasse  hild?  ^ 
Let  them  record  them  that  are  better  skild. 

1258.  Fulfill'd.  Filled  full.  See  T.  and  C.  p.  162. 
1261.  Precedent.  Example,  illustration. 

1263.  Present.  Instant ; as  in  1307  below. 

N 


etc. 


ic;4 


NOTES . 


1269.  Counterfeit.  Likeness,  image;  as  in  M.  of  V.  iii.  2.  uc,  Mach 
11.  3.  81,  etc. 

1279*  With  the  fault  I thus  far  can  dispense.  See  on  1070  above. 

1298.  Conceit.  Conception,  thought;  as  in  701  above. 

1302.  Inventions.  Elsewhere  used  of  thoughts  expressed  in  writing  • 
as  111  A.  K L.  iv.  3.  29,  34,  T.  N.  v.  1.  341,  etc. 

l3?5'  Interprets.  The  figure  here  is  taken  from  the  old  motion , or 
dumb-show,  which  was  explained  by  an  interpreter.  CL  T.  of  A p ik 
(note  on  35),  or  Ham.  p.  228  (on  228). 

*329*  Sounds.  That  is,  waters  (which  may  be  deep , though  not  fath- 
omless). Malone  conjectured  “ floods.” 

1335.  Fowls.  The  6th  and  7th  eds.  have  “soules ;”  an  easy  misprint 
when  the  long  s was  in  fashion. 

I33^»  Villain.  Servant,  bondman.  Cf.  Lear , p.  232. 

4345-  Cod  wot.  God  knows.  Cf.  Rich.  III.  ii.  3.  18:  “no,  no,  good 
friends,  God  wot.”  See  our  ed.  p.  203. 

I353*  That.  So  that ; as  in  94  above. 

*355-  Wistly.  Wistfully.  See  on  V.  and  A.  343. 

*357>  1358.  Note  the  imperfect  rhyme. 

1368.  The  which.  Referring  to  Troy. 

1370.  Cloud-kissing  Ilion.  Cf.  T.  and  C.  iv.  5.  220  : “ Yond  towers 
whose  wanton  tops  do  buss  the  clouds,”  etc. 

1371.  Conceited.  Fanciful,  imaginative.  Cf.  W.  T.  iv.  4.  204 : “ an 
admirable  conceited  fellow ;”  L . C.  16:  “conceited  characters,”  etc. 

1372.  As.  That.  Gr.  109. 

*377*  Strife.  That  is,  “his  art  with  nature’s  workmanship  at  strife” 
( V . and  A.  291).  Cf.  T.  of  A.  i.  1.  37.  v 

1380.  Pioneer.  The  early  eds.  have  “pyoner”  or  “pioner.”  See 
Ham.  p.  198.  Here  the  rhyme  requires  pioneer. 

1384.  Lust.  Pleasure.  Cf.  T.  and  C.  p.  200,  note  on  132. 

1388.  Triumphing.  Accented  on  the  second  syllable  ; as  often.  See 
Z.  Z.  Z.  p.  148. 

1400.  Deep  regard  and  smiling  government.  “ Profound  wisdom  and 
the  complacency  arising  from  the  passions  being  under  the  command  of 
reason  ” (Malone) ; or  deep  thought  and  complacent  self-control.  For 
deep  regard , cf.  277  above. 

1407.  Purl d.  “ Curl’d  ” (Steevens’s  conjecture)  ; used  by  S.  only  here. 

1411.  Mermaid.  Siren.  See  on  V.and  A.  429. 

3417.  Pollen.  Swollen;  used  by  S.  nowhere  else.  Cf.  Chaucer, 
Black  Knight , 101  : “Bollen  hertes,”  etc.  The  later  form  boiled  occurs 
in  Exod.  ix.  31. 

1418*  Pelt.  Probably  =throw  out  angry  words,  be  passionately  clam- 
orous; as  Malone,  Nares,  and  Schmidt  explain  it.  Cf.  Wits,  Fits , and 
Fancies:  “all  in  a pelting  chafe,”  etc.  The  noun  is  also  sometimes  = 
a great  rage ; as  in  The  Unnatural  Brother  : “ which  put  her  ladyship 
into  a horrid  pelt,”  etc. 

1422.  Imaginary.  Imaginative;  as  in  Sonn.  27.9:  “mv  soul’s  imag- 
inary sight,”  etc.  “ 

1423.  Kind.  Natural.  See  Much  Ado , p.  118. 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE . 


J95 

1436.  Strand.  All  the  early  eds.  have  “strond.”  See  I Hen . IV. 
p.  139- 

1440.  Than.  The  old  form  of  then,  sometimes  found  in  the  early  eds. 
(as  in  M.  of  V.  ii.  2.  200,  3 Hen.  VI.  ii.  5.  9,  etc.),  here  used  for  the  sake 
of  the  rhyme. 

1444.  StelPd.  Spelled  “steld”  in  all  the  early  eds.,  and  probably  = 
placed,  fixed.  Cf.  Sonn.  24.  1 : 

“ Mine  eye  hath  play’d  the  painter,  and  hath  stell’d 
Thy  beauty’s  form  in  table  of  my  heart.” 

In  Lear,  iii.  7.  61,  we  find  “the  stelled  fires,”  where  stelled  is  commonly 
explained  as  derived  from  stella,  though  Schmidt  may  be  right  in  making 
it  = fixed,  as  here.  K.  and  H.  suspect  that  stell'd  is  “simply  a poetical 
form  of  styled,  that  is,  written  or  depicted  as  with  a stilus  or  stylus 

1449.  Bleeding  under  Pyrrhus'  proud  foot.  Cf.  Ham.  ii.  2.  474  fol. 

1450.  Anatomiz'd.  “Laid  open,  shown  distinctly”  (Schmidt).  Cf. 
A.  Y.  L.  i.  1.  162,  ii.  7.  56,  A.  W.  iv.  3.  37,  etc. 

1452.  Chaps.  Spelled  “chops”  in  all  the  early  eds.  except  the  7th. 
Cf.  chopt  or  chopped  in  A.  Y.  L.  ii.  4.  50,  2 Hen.  IV.  iii.  2.  294,  etc.,  and 
choppy  in  Mach.  i.  3.  44. 

1460.  Ban.  Curse  ; as  in  V.  and  A.  326. 

1479.  Moe.  More.  See  A.  Y.  L.  p.  176. 

i486.  Swowids.  Swoons.  All  the  early  eds.  have  “sounds,”  as  the 
word  was  often  spelled. 

1488.  Unadvised.  Unintentional,  inadvertent.  Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  p.  149. 

1489.  Confounds.  Destroys.  See  on  160  above. 

1494.  Oit  ringing.  A-ringing.  See  Gr.  180.  His  — its. 

1496.  Set  a-work.  See  Ham.  p.  21 1,  or  Gr.  24. 

1499.  Painting.  All  the  early  eds.  except  the  1st  and  2d  have  “ painted.” 

1500.  Who.  The  reading  of  all  the  early  eds.  changed  in  some  mod- 
ern ones  to  “ whom.”  See  Gr.  274. 

1504.  Blunt.  Rude,  rough.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “ these  blunt.” 

1505.  His  woes.  “That  is,  the  woes  suffered  by  Patience ” (Malone). 
Cf.  T.  N.  ii.  4.  1 17  and  Per.  v.  1.  139. 

1507.  The  harmless  show.  “The  harmless  painted  figure  ” (Malone). 

15 1 1.  Guilty  instance.  Token  or  evidence  of  guilt.  For  instance , see 
Much  Ado,  p.  135. 

1521.  Sinon.  Cf.  3 Hen.  VI.  iii.  2.  190  and  Cymb.  iii.  4.  61. 

1524.  That.  So  that.  See  on  94  above. 

1525.  Stars  shot  from  their  fixed  places.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  ii.  1.  1 53  : “ And 
certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres.” 

1526.  Their  glass,  etc.  “Why  Priam’s  palace,  however  beautiful  or 
magnificent,  should  be  called  the  mirror  in  which  the  fixed  stars  beheld 
themselves,  I do  not  see.  The  image  is  very  quaint  and  far-fetched” 
(Malone).  Boswell  cites  what  Lydgate  says  of  Priam’s  palace : 

“That  verely  when  so  the  sonne  shone 
Upon  the  golde  meynt  among  the  stone, 

They  gave  a lyght  withouten  any  were, 

As  doth  Apollo  in  his  mid-day  sphere.” 

1527.  Advisedly.  Deliberately,  attentively. 


NOTES. 


196 

1544.  Beguil'd.  Rendered  deceptive  or  guileful.  C f.  gulled  in  M.  of 
V.  iii.  2.  97  ; and  see  Gr.  374.  The  early  eds.  have  “armed  to  beguild  ” 
(or  “ beguil’d  ”) ; corrected  by  Malone. 

1 55 x*  Bulls.  Lets  fall.  Ct.  M.  N.  D.  p.  184,  or  y.  C.  p.  175. 

1 555*  Effects-  Outward  manifestations  or  attributes.  Cf.  Lear,  p.  171. 
Some  make  it  —efficacies,  powers,  or  faculties. 

r5^5*  Unhappy.  Mischievous,  fatal,  pernicious;  as  in  C.  of  E.  iv.  4. 
127,  Lear , iv.  6.  232,  etc. 

I57^-  Which  all  this  time.  This  (namely,  time ) has  passed  unheeded 
by  her  during  this  interval  that  she  has  spent  with  painted  images ; or 
which  may  perhaps  refer  to  the  slow  passage  of  time  just  mentioned,  and 
the  meaning  may  be,  This  she  has  forgotten  all  the  while  that  she  has 
been  looking  at  the  pictures.  H.  says ; “ Which  refers  to  time  in  the 
preceding  stanza,  and  is  the  object  of  spent:  Which  that  she  hath 
spent  with  painted  images,  it  hath  all  this  time  overslipped  her  thought.” 
This  seems  needlessly  awkward  and  involved. 

1588.  Water-galls.  The  word  is  evidently  used  here  simply  as  = rain- 
bows, to  avoid  the  repetition  of  that  word.  Nares  and  Wb.  define  it  as 
“a  watery  appearance  in  the  sky,  accompanying  the  rainbow;”  accord- 
ing to  others,  it  means  the  “secondary  bow”  of  the  rainbow  (which  H. 
speaks  of  as  being  “within”  the  primaiy  bow).  Halliwell  ( Archaic 
Diet.)  says:  “I  am  told  a second  rainbow  above  the  first  is  called  in 
the  Isle  of  Wight  a watergeal.  Carr  has  weather-gall , a secondary  or 
broken  rainbow.” 

P'or  element— sky,  see  f.  C.  p.  140. 

1589.  To.  In  addition  to.  Gr.  185. 

1592.  Sod.  The  participle  of  seethe , used  interchangeably  with  sodden. 
See  L.  L.  L.  p.  145. 

1595.  Both.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “But.” 

1598.  Uncouth.  Strange  (literally,  unknown).  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  ii.  6.  6: 
“this  uncouth  forest,”  etc. 

1600.  Attir'd  in  discontent.  Cf.  Much  Ado , iv.  1.  146:  “so  attir’d  in 
wonder,”  etc. 

1604.  Gives  her  sorrow  fire.  The  metaphor  is  taken  from  the  discharge 
of  the  old-fashioned  fire-lock  musket.  Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  ii.  4.  38  : “ for  you 
gave  the  fire.” 

1606.  Address'd.  Prepared,  ready.  See  J.  C.  p.  156. 

1615.  Moe.  The  reading  of  the  first  three  eds. ; “more”  in  the  rest. 
See  on  1479  above. 

1632.  Hard  favour' d.  See  on  V.  and  A.  133. 

1645.  Adulterate.  Cf.  C.  of  E.  ii.  2.  142,  Ham.  i.  5.  42,  etc. 

1661.  Declin'd.  All  the  eds.  except  the  1st  have  “inclin’d.” 

1662.  Wretched.  Walker  plausibly  conjectures  “wreathed.”  Cf.  T. 
G.  of  V.  ii.  1.  19  : “ to  wreathe  your  arms.” 

1667.  As  through  an  arch , etc.  Doubtless  suggested  by  the  tide  rush- 
ing through  the  arches  of  Old  London  Bridge.  See  Cor . p.  271  (note  on 
47)  and  2 Hen.  IV.  p.  29,  foot-note. 

1671.  Recall'd  in  rage , etc.  Farmer  wished  to  read  “recall’d,  the  rage 
being  past.” 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE. 


*97 


1672.  Make  a saiu.  The  metaphor  is  quaint,  but  readily  understood 
from  the  context.  The  noun  saw  is  used  by  S.  nowhere  else,  though 
handsaw  occurs  in  1 Hen . IV.  ii.  4.  187  and  Ham.  ii.  2.  397. 

1680.  One  woe.  The  1st  and  2d  eds.  have  “on”  for  one , a common 
knelling.  Cf.  Two  Noble  Kinsmen , p.  164,  note  on  70. 

* 1691.  Venge.  Not  ’ venge , as  often  printed.  See  Rich.  II.  p.  158. 

1694.  Knights , by  their  oaths , etc.  Malone  remarks  : “ Here  one  of  the 
laws  of  chivalry  is  somewhat  prematurely  introduced.”  See  T.  and  C. 
p.  174,  note  on  283. 

1698.  Bewray'd.  Exposed,  made  known.  Cf.  Lear,  p.  199. 

1704.  With  the  foul  act  dispense.  See  on  1070  above. 

1705.  Advance.  Raise;  opposed  to  lozv-declined.  For  advance = lift 
up,  see  Cor.  p.  210. 

1713.  Caw'd  in  it.  All  the  early  eds.  have  “it  in”  for  in  it,  except 
the  7th,  which  omits  it.  The  correction  is  Malone’s. 

1715.  By  my  excuse , etc.  Livy  makes  Lucretia  say:  “Ego  me,  etsi 
peccato  absolvo,  supplicio  non  libero ; nec  ulla  deinde  impudica  exem- 
plo  Lucretiae  vivet which  Painter,  in  his  novel  (see  p.  16  above) 
translates  thus  : “ As  for  my  part,  though  I cleare  my  selfe  of  the  offence, 
my  body  shall  feel  the  punishment,  for  no  unchaste  or  ill  woman  shall 
hereafter  impute  no  dishonest  act  to  Lucrece.” 

1720.  Assays.  Attempts  ; as  in  T.  of  A.  iv.  3.  406,  Ham.  iii.  3.  69,  etc. 

1728.  Spright.  See  on  121  above. 

1730.  Astonish'd.  Astounded,  thunderstruck.  Cf.  2 Hen.  VI.  v.  I. 
146,  etc. 

1738.  That.  So  that;  as  in  1764  below.  See  on  94  above. 

1740.  Vastly . “Like  a waste”  (Steevens)  ; the  only  instance  of  the 
word  in  S. 

1745.  Rigol.  Circle.  See  2 Hen.  IV.  p.  193. 

1752.  Depriv'd.  Taken  away  ; as  in  1186  above. 

1754.  Unliv'd.  Probably  the  poet’s  own  coinage,  and  used  by  him 
only  here. 

1760.  Fair  fresh.  D.  reads  “fresh  fair,”  and  St.  and  H.  “fresh-fair.” 

1765.  Last.  All  the  early  eds.  but  the  1st  and  2d  have  “hast,”  and 
in  the  next  line  “ thou  ” for  they. 

1766.  Surcease.  Cease  ; as  in  Cor.  iii.  2.  121  and  R.  and  J.  iv.  1.  97. 

1774.  Key-cold.  Cf.  Rich.  III.  i.  2.  5 : “ Poor  key-cold  figure  of  a holy 

_'.ing  ;”  and  see  our  ed.  p.  183. 

1784.  Thick . Fast.  Cf.  thick-coming  in  Mack . v.  3. 38.  See  also  Cymb. 
p.  189,  note  on  Speak  thick. 

1788.  This  windy  tempest , etc.  Cf.  T.  and  C.  p.  198  (note  on  55),  or 
3 Hen.  VI.  p.  146  (note  on  146). 

1801.  Too  late.  Too  lately.  Cf.  426  above  and  V.  and  A.  1026.  See 
also  Rich.  III.  p.  209. 

1803.  I owed  her.  She  was  mine.  For  owe  — own,  see  Rich.  II.  p. 
204,  or  K John,  p.  141. 

1805.  Disperse . For  the  accent,  see  on  26  above. 

1816.  Advisedly.  Deliberately.  Cf.  180  and  1527  above.  So  advised — 
deliberate,  in  1849  below. 


NOTES . 


198 


1819.  Unsounded.  Not  sounded  or  understood  hitherto.  Cf.  2 Hen. 

VI.  iii.  1.  57. 

1822.  Wounds  help.  Walker  would  read  “ heal  ” and  St.  “ salve  ” for 
help. 

1829.  Relenting.  The  5th  and  later  eds.  have  “ lamenting.” 

1832.  Suffer  these  abominations,  etc.  That  is,  permit  these  abominable 
Tarquins  to  be  chased,  etc. 

1839,  Complain'd.  Bewailed.  For  the  transitive  use,  cf.  Rich.  II. 
p.  197.  Or.  291. 

1845.  Allow.  Approve.  Cf.  2 Hen.  IV.  p.  185. 

1851.  Thorough.  Used  interchangeably  with  through.  Cf.  M.  of  V. 
p.  144,  note  on  Throughfares.  The  5th  ed.  has  “ through  out,”  and  the 
7th  “ throughout.” 

1854.  Plausibly.  With  applause  or  acclamations  (Malone  and  Stee- 
vens) ; or  “readily,  willingly”  (Schmidt).  It  is  the  only  instance  of  the 
adverb  in  S.  Plausible  occurs  only  in  M.  for  M.  iii.  1.  253,  where  it  is  = 
pleased,  willing. 


A LOVER’S  COMPLAINT. 


For  the  feminine  use  of  lover  in  the  title,  cf.  A.  Y.  L.  p.  181. 

1.  Re-worded.  Compare  Ham.  iii.  4.  143:  “I  the  matter  will  re- 
word.” 

2.  Sistering.  We  find  the  verb  in  Per . v.  prol.  7 : “her  art  sisters  the 
natural  roses.” 

3.  Spirits.  Monosyllabic ; as  not  unfrequently.  Cf.  236  below ; and 
see  on  V.  and  A.  181.  Accorded—  agreed. 

4.  Laid.  Malone  reads  “ lay,”  which  is  the  form  elsewhere  in  S. 

5.  Fickle.  Apparently  referring  to  her  behaviour  at  the  time. 

6.  A-twain.  So  in  the  folio  text  of  Lear , ii.  2.  80,  where  the  quartos 
have  “in  twain.”  In  Oth . v.  2.  206,  the  1st  quarto  has  a-twain , the  other 
early  eds.  “in  twain.” 

7.  Her  ivorld \ Malone  quotes  Lear , iii.  1.  10  : 


“ Strives  in  his  little  world  of  man  to  outscom 
The  to-and-fro-conflicting  wind  and  rain.” 

See  our  ed.  p.  215. 

11.  Done.  Past,  lost.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  197,  749,  and  R.  of  L.  23. 

14.  Sear'd.  Withered.  H.  has  “sere.” 

15.  Heave  her  napkin . Lift  her  handkerchief.  For  heave,  cf.  Cymb. 
v.  5.  157: 


“O,  would 

Our  viands  had  been  poison’d,  or  at  least 
Those  which  I heav’d  to  head:” 


and  for  napkin  see  Oth.  p.  188. 

16.  Conceited  cha7'acters.  Fanciful  figures.  See  on  R.  of  L.  1371. 

17.  Laundering.  Wetting;  used  by  S.  only  here.  Malone  calls  the 
verb  “ obsolete but  it  has  come  into  use  again  in  our  day. 


A LOVER'S  COMPLAINT. 


199 


18.  Season'd.  A favourite  figure  with  S.  See  Much  Ado , p.  155. 

For  pelleted  (^rounded),  cf.  A.  and  C.  iii.  13.  165. 

21.  Size.  This  use  of  the  word  seems  peculiar  now  ; but  cf.  Hen. 
VIII.  v.  1.  136,  A.  and  C.  iv.  15.  4,  v.  2.  97,  etc. 

22.  Carriage.  The  figure  is  taken  from  a gun-carriage.  Levell'd  was 
a technical  term  for  aiming  a gun.  See  Rich.  III.p.  232. 

30.  Careless  hand  of  pride.  That  is,  hand  of  careless  pride. 

31  .Sheav'd.  Straw.  Cf.  8 above. 

33.  Threaden . The  word  is  used  again  in  Hen.  V.  iii.  chor.  10: 

“ threaden  sails.” 

36.  Maund.  Hand -basket;  used  by  S.  only  here.  Cf.  Drayton, 
Poiyolbiou,  xiii. : 

“ And  in  a little  maund,  being  made  of  oziers  small. 

Which  serveth  him  to  do  full  many  a thing  withall, 

He  very  choicely  sorts  his  simples  got  abroad;” 

Herrick,  Poems : “ With  maunds  of  roses  for  to  strew  the  way,”  etc. 
Hence  Maundy  Thursday , from  the  baskets  in  which  the  royal  alms 
were  distributed  at  Whitehall. 

37.  Beaded.  The  quarto  (the  1609  ed.  of  Sonnets , in  which  the  poem 
first  appears)  has  “ bedded corrected  by  Sewell.  K.  retains  “ bed- 
ded” as  = imbedded,  set 

40.  Applying  wet  to  wet.  A favourite  conceit  with  S.  See  A.  Y.  L.  ii. 
I.  48,  R.  and  J.  i.  1.  138,  3 Hen.  VI.  v.  4.  8,  Ham.  iv.  7.  186,  etc. 

42.  Cries  some.  Cries  for  some.  Malone  puts  some  in  italics  (— “ cries 
‘ Some  ’ ”). 

45.  Posied.  Inscribed  with  posies,  or  mottoes.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  p.  164. 
Rings  were  often  made  of  bone  and  ivory. 

47.  Moe.  More.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  1479. 

48.  Sleided.  Untwisted  or  unwrought.  Cf.  Pericles , p.  149.  Feat— 
featly,  dexterously.  See  Temp.  p.  120. 

49.  Curious . Careful ; as  in  A.  W.  i.  2.  20,  Cytnb.  i,  6,  191,  etc. 

50.  Fluxive.  Flowing,  weeping ; used  by  S.  only  here. 

51.  Gait.  The  quarto  has  “gaue,”  which  K.  retains  (as  “gave”); 
corrected  by  Malone. 

53.  Unapproved.  Not  approved,  or  proved  true.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  171, 
note  on  Approve. 

55.  In  top  of  rage.  Cf.  3 Hen.  VI.  v.  7. 4 : “ in  tops  of  all  their  pride ;” 
A.  and  C.  v.  I.  43" : “ in  top  of  all  design,”  etc. 

Rents— rends.  See  M.  N.  D.  p,  166. 

58.  Sometime.  Formerly  ; used  interchangeably  with  sometimes  in  this 
sense.  Gr.  6 8a.  Ruffle— bustle,  stir  ; the  only  instance  of  the  noun  in  S. 

60.  The  swiftest  hours.  “The  prime  of  life,  when  Time  appears  to 
move  with  his  quickest  pace  ” (Malone).  They , according  to  Malone,  re- 
fers to  the  fragments  of  the  torn-up  letters ; though  he  admits  that  the 
clause  may  be  connected  with  hours,  meaning  that  ‘‘this  reverend  man, 
though  engaged  in  the  bustle  of  court  and  city,  had  not  suffered  the  busy 
and  gay  period  of  youth  to  pass  by  without  gaining  some  knowledge  of 
the  world.”  This  latter  explanation  is  doubtless  the  correct  one. 


200 


NOTES. 


61.  Fancy . Often  =love  (see  on  R.  of  L.  200),  and  here  used  concretely 
for  the  lover.  Cf.  197  below.  Fastly  is  used  bv  S.  only  here. 

64.  Slides  he  down , etc.  That  is,  lets  himself  down  by  the  aid  of  his 
staff,  as  he  seats  himself  beside  her.  Grained^  of  rough  wood,  or  show- 
ing the  grain  of  the  wood.  Cf.  Cor.  iv.  5.  1 14 : “My  grained  ash” 
(—spear). 

69.  Ecstasy.  Passion,  excitement.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  895. 

80.  Outwards.  External  features  ; not  elsewhere  plural  in  S.  For 
Of  the  quarto  has  “ O corrected  by  Malone  (the  conjecture  of  Tyr- 
whitt). 

81.  Stuck.  Cf.  M.  for  M.  iv.  1.  61  : 

“O  place  and  greatness!  millions  of  false  eyes 
Are  stuck  upon  thee/’ 

88.  What's  sweet  to  do , etc.  “Things  pleasant  to  be  done  will  easily 
find  people  enough  to  do  them  ” (Steevens). 

91.  Sawn.  Explained  by  some  as  a form  of  the  participle  of  see,  used 
for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme  ; by  others  as  — sozun,  which  Boswell  says  is 
still  pronounced  sawn  in  Scotland.  The  latter  is  the  more  probable. 

93.  Phoenix . Explained  by  Malone  and  Schmidt  as  matchless, 
rare.”  So  ter7nless= indescribable. 

95.  Bare.  Bareness  ; not  elsewhere  used  substantively  by  S. 

104.  Authoriz'd.  Accented  on  the  second  syllable ; as  in  the  other 
two  instances  in  which  S.  uses  the  word  (Sonn.  35.  6 and  Mach.  iii.  4,  66). 

107.  That  horse , etc.  H.  does  not  include  this  line  in  the  supposed 
comment. 

1 12.  Manage.  See  on  the  verb  in  V.  and  A.  598. 

1 16.  Case.  Dress  ; as  in  M.  for  M.  ii.  4.  13,  etc. 

1 18.  Came.  The  quarto  has  “Can;”  corrected  by  Sewell.  K.  re- 
tains “ Can.” 

126.  Catching  all  passions , etc.  Steevens  says  : “ These  lines,  in  which 
our  poet  has  accidentally  delineated  his  own  character,  would  have  been 
better  adapted  to  his  monumental  inscription  than  such  as  are  placed  on 
the  scroll  in  Westminster  Abbey.” 

127.  That.  So  that.  See  on  V.  and  A.  242. 

139.  Moe . Cf.  47  above. 

140.  Owe.  Own.  See  on  R.  of  L.  1803. 

144.  Was  my  own  fee-simple . “ Had  an  absolute  power  over  myself” 

(Malone).  See  A.  W.  p.  171. 

153.  Foil . The  background  used  to  set  off  a jewel.  Cf.  Rich.  III. 
p.  242. 

155.  Assay.  Essay,  try.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  608. 

162.  Blood.  Passion.  Cf.  Much  Ado,  p.  13 1,  note  on  162. 

163.  Proof.  Experience.  Cf.  Much  Ado,  p.  13 1. 

169.  Further.  St.  conjectures  “ father.” 

170.  The  patterns  of  his  fond  beguiling.  “ The  examples  of  his  seduc- 
tion” (Malone). 

1 71.  Orchards.  Gardens.  See  J.  C.  p.  142.  For  the  figure,  cf.  Sonn . 
16.  6. 


A LOVER'S  COMPLAINT. 


201 


I. 


173.  Brokers.  Panders,  go-betweens.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  191. 

174.  Thought.  Malone  took  this  to  be  a noun. 

176.  My  city.  For  the  figure,  cf.  R.  of  L.  469  (see  also  1547),  A.  W.  i. 
1 37,  etc. 

182.  Woo . The  quarto  has  “vow;”  corrected  by  D. 

185.  A dure.  Action  ; not  found  elsewhere.  Cf.  enactures  in  Ham.  iii. 


2.  207. 

Malone  paraphrases  the  passage  thus : “ My  illicit  amours  were  merely 
the  effect  of  constitution  [or  animal  passion],  and  not  approved  by  my 
reason : pure  and  genuine  love  had  no  share  in  them,  or  in  their  conse- 
quences; for  the  mere  congress  of  the  sexes  may  produce  such  fruits, 
without  the  affections  of  the  parties  being  at  all  engaged.” 

192.  Teen.  Trouble,  pain.  See  on  V.  and  A.  808. 

193.  Leisures.  Moments  of  leisure.  Schmidt  makes  it  =“  affections, 
inclinations,”  which  it  implies. 

197.  Fancies.  See  on  61  above. 

198.  Paled.  The  quarto  has  “palyd,”  and  Sewell  reads  “ pallid.” 
Paled  is  due  to  Malone. 

204.  These  talents , etc.  “ These  lockets , consisting  of  hair  platted  and 
set  in  gold"  (Malone). 

205.  Impleach'd.  Interwoven.  Cf.  pleached  in  Much  Ado,  iii.  1.  7,  and 
thick-pleached  in  Id.  i.  2.  8 (see  our  ed.  p.  126). 

207.  Beseech' d.  Cf.  the  past  .tense  in  Ham.  iii.  1.  22. 

208.  Annexions.  Additions  ; used  by  S.  only  here,  as  annexment  only 
in  Ham.  iii.  3.  21. 

210.  Quality . “ In  the  age  of  S.  peculiar  virtues  were  imputed  to  ev- 

ery species  of  precious  stone”  (Steevens). 

212.  Invis'd.  “ Invisible  ” (Malone) ; or,  “ perhaps  ^inspected,  inves- 
tigated, tried”  (Schmidt).  No  other  example  of  the  word  is  known. 

214.  Weak  sights,  etc.  Eye-glasses  of  emerald  were  much  esteemed 
by  the  ancients ; and  the  near-sighted  Nero  is  said  to  have  used  them  in 
watching  the  shows  of  gladiators. 

215.  Blend.  Walker  makes  this  a participle —blended.  He  adds: 
“ The  expression  is  perhaps  somewhat  confused,  but  it  refers  to  the 
ever-varying  hue  of  the  opal.” 

217.  Blazon'd.  Interpreted,  explained.  Cf.  the  noun  in  Much  Ado, 

ii.  1.  307. 

219.  Pensiv'd.  Found  only  here.  Pensive  occurs  in  3 Hen.  VI.  iv.  I. 
10  and  R.  and  J.  iv.  1.  39.  H.  adopts  Lettsom’s  conjecture  of  “ pensive  ” 
here  ; but  the  “pensiu’d”  of  the  quarto  could  hardly  be  a misprint. 

223.  Of  force.  Perforce,  of  necessity.  Cf.  L.  L.  L.  i.  1.  148,  M.  AT.  D. 

iii.  2.  40,  etc. 

224.  Enpatron  me.  Are  my  patron  saint. 

225.  Phraseless.  Probably  = indescribable,  like  termless  in  94  above. 
Schmidt  thinks  it  may  possibly  be  =silent,  like  speechless  (hand)  in  Cor. 

v.  I.  67. 

229.  What  me,  etc.  Whatever  obeys  me,  your  minister,  for  (or  instead 
of)  you,  etc. 

231.  Distract.  Disjoined,  separate.  For  the  accent,  see  on  R.  of  L.  26. 


202 


NOTES . 


232.  ^ sister.  The  quarto  has  “ Or  sister  ;”  corrected  by  Malone. 

2 33.  Note . Notoriety,  distinction.  Cf.  Cymb.  p.  170,  on  A crescent  note. 

234.  Which  late , etc.  Who  lately  withdrew  from  her  noble  suitors. 

235.  Whose  rarest  havings , etc.  “ Whose  accomplishments  were  so 
extraordinary  that  the  flower  of  the  young  nobility  were  passionately 
enamoured  of  her  ” (Malone). 

236.  Spirits . Monosyllabic,  as  in  3 above.  Coat  may  be  =coat-of- 
arms  (Malone),  or  dress  as  indicative  of  rank,  as  some  explain  it. 

240.  Have  not . H.  adopts  Barron  Field’s  conjecture  of  “ love  not  ” — 
a needless  if  not  an  injurious  change. 

241.  Paling  the  place , etc.  The  quarto  has  “ Playing  the  place,”  etc. ; 
for  which  no  really  satisfactory  emendation  has  been  proposed.  Paling, 
which  is  as  tolerable  as  any,  is  due  to  Malone,  who  explains  the  line 
thus  : “ Securing  within  the  pale  of  a cloister  that  heart  which  had  never 
received  the  impression  of  love.”  Lettsom  conjectures  “Salving  the 
place  which  did  no  harm  receive.”  St.  proposes  “ Filling  the  place,” 
etc.  Paling  is  adopted  by  K.,  D„  W.,  and  H.  For  pale  = enclose,  cf. 
A.  and  C.  ii.  7.  74,  3 Hen.  VI.  i.  4.  103,  etc. 

243.  Contrives.  Some  make  this  —wear  away,  spend ; as  in  T.  of  S. 
i.  2.  278  (see  our  ed.  p.  141). 

250.  Eye.  The  rhyme  of  eye  and  eye  is  apparently  an  oversight,  no  mis- 
print being  probable. 

251.  Immur'd . The  quarto  has  “enur’d”  and  “procure;”  both  cor- 
rected by  Gil  don. 

252.  To  tempt , all.  Most  eds.  join  all  U tempt,  which,  to  our  thinking, 
mars  both  the  antithesis  and  the  rhythm 

258.  Congest.  Gather  in  one  ; used  by  S.  only  here. 

260.  Nun.  The  quarto  has  “ Sunne.”  The  correction  was  suggested 
by  Malone,  and  first  adopted  by  D. 

261.  Ay,  dieted.  The  quarto  has  “ I dieted,”  not  “ I died,”  as  Malone 
(who  reads  “ and  dieted  ”)  states. 

262.  Believ'd  her  eyes,  etc.  “ Believed  or  yielded  to  her  eyes  when 
they,  captivated  by  the  external  appearance  of  her  wooer,  began  to  assail 
her  chastity”  (Malone).  “ When  I the  assail”  was  an  anonymous  con- 
jecture which  Malone  was  at  first  inclined  to  adopt. 

265 . Sting.  Stimulus,  incitement. 

271.  Love's  arms  are  proof,  etc.  Another  corrupt  and  perplexing  line. 
The  quarto  has  “ peace  ” for  proof  which  was  suggested  by  Malone. 
Steevens  conjectures  “ Love  aims  at  peace,”  D.  “Love  arms  our  peace,” 
and  Lettsom  “ Love  charms  our  peace.” 

272.  And  szoeetens.  And  it  {Love)  sweetens. 

273.  Aloes.  The  only  mention  of  the  bitter  drug  in  S. 

276.  Supplicant . Not  found  elsewhere  in  S. 

279.  Credent.  Credulous.  Cf.  Ham.  i.  3.  30  : “ too  credent  ear,”  etc. 

280.  Prefer  and  undertake . Recommend  (cf.  M.  of  V.  p.  140)  and  guar- 
antee, or  answer  for  (see  1 Hen.  VI.  v.  3.  158,  Hen.  VIII.  prol.  12,  etc.). 

281.  Dismount.  “The  allusion  is  to  the  old  English  fire-arms,  which 
were  supported  on  what  was  called  a rest”  (Malone).  For  levell'd— 
aimed,  see  on  22  above. 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM. 


203 


286.  Who  glaz'd  with  crystal  gate , etc.  Malone  points  thus  : “ Who, 
glaz’d  with  crystal,  gate  making  gate  “ the  ancient  perfect  tense  of  the 
verb  to  get."  Flame  he  took  to  be  the  object  of  gate. 

293.  O cleft  effect ! The  quarto  has  “ Or  ” for  O ; corrected  by  Gildon. 

294.  Extincture . Extinction  ; used  by  S.  only  here. 

29 7.  Daff'd.  Doffed,  put  off.  See  A.  and  C.  p.  203,  or  Much  Ado , p. 
138.  Stole  (=robe)  is  not  found  elsewhere  in  S. 

298.  Civil . Decorous  ; as  in  Oth.  ii.  1.  243  : “ civil  and  humane  seem- 
ing,” etc. 

303.  Cautels.  Deceits.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  187. 

305.  Swooning.  The  quarto  has  “sounding,”  and  “sound”  in  308 
below.  See  on  R.  of  L.  i486  ; and  cf.  R.  and  J.  p.  186  (on  Swounded). 

309.  Level.  See  on  281  above. 

314.  Luxury . Lust,  lasciviousness  ; the  only  meaning  of  the  word  in 
S.  Cf.  Hen.  V.  p.  166. 

315.  Preach'd  pure  maid.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  iii.  2.  227  : “speak  sad  brow 
and  true  maid.” 

318.  Unexperient.  Used  by  S.  only  here,  as  unexperienced  only  in  T. 
of  S.  iv.  1.  86. 

319.  Cherubin.  Used  by  S.  ten  times.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  p.  162.  Cherub 
he  has  only  in  Ham.  iv.  3.  50,  cherubim  not  at  all. 

327.  Owed.  That  is,  owned,  or  his  own.  See  on  140  above.  Bor- 
row'd motion^ counterfeit  expression  of  feeling. 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM. 

Swinburne  remarks:  “What  Coleridge  said  of  Ben  Jonson’s  epithet 
for  ‘turtle-footed  peace,’  we  may  say  of  the  label  affixed  to  this  rag- 
picker’s bag  of  stolen  goods  : The  Passionate  Pilgi'im  is  a pretty  title,  a 
very  pretty  title ; pray  what  may  it  mean  ? In  all  the  larcenous  little 
bundle  of  verse  there  is  neither  a poem  which  bears  that  name  nor  a 
poem  by  which  that  name  would  be  bearable.  The  publisher  of  the 
booklet  was  like  ‘one  Ragozine,  a most  notorious  pirate  ;’  and  the  meth- 
od no  less  than  the  motive  of  his  rascality  in  the  present  instance  is  pal- 
pable and  simple  enough.  Fired  by  the  immediate  and  instantly  prover- 
bial popularity  of  Shakespeare’s  Venus  and  Adonis,  he  hired,  we  may 
suppose,  some  ready  hack  of  unclean  hand  to  supply  him  with  three 
doggrel  sonnets  on  the  same  subject,  noticeable  only  for  the  porcine 
quality  of  prurience ; he  procured  by  some  means  a rough  copy  or  an 
incorrect  transcript  of  two  genuine  and  unpublished  sonnets  by  Shake- 
speare, which  with  the  acute  instinct  of  a felonious  tradesman  he  laid 
atop  of  his  worthless  wares  by  way  of  gilding  to  their  base  metal ; he 
stole  from  the  two  years  published  text  of  Love's  Labour 's  Lost,  and  re- 
produced with  more  or  less  mutilation  or  corruption,  the  sonnet  of  Lon- 
gaville,  the  4 canzonet  ’ of  Biron,  and  the  far  lovelier  love-song  of  Dumain. 
The  rest  of  the  ragman’s  gatherings,  with  three  most  notable  exceptions, 


204 


NOTES . 


is  little  better  for  the  most  part  than  dry  rubbish  or  disgusting  refuse  ; 
unless  a plea  may  haply  be  put  in  for  the  pretty  commonplaces  of  the 
lines  on  a ‘sweet  rose,  fair  flower,’  and  so  forth;  for  the  couple  of  thin 
and  pallid  if  tender  and  tolerable  copies  of  verse  on  ‘ Beauty  ’ and  ‘ Good 
Night,’  or  the  passably  light  and  lively  stray  of  song  on  ‘crabbed  age 
and  youth.’  I need  not  say  that  those  three  exceptions  are  the  stolen 
and  garbled  work  of  Marlowe  and  of  Barnfield,  our  elder  Shelley  and  our 
first  -born  Keats  ; the  singer  of  Cynthia  in  verse  well  worthy  of  Endymion, 
who  would  seem  to  have  died  as  a poet  in  the  same  fatal  year  of  his  age 
that  Keats  died  as  a man;  the  first  adequate  English  laureate  of  the 
nightingale,  to  be  supplanted  or  equalled  by  none  until  the  advent  of  his 
mightier  brother.” 

The  contents  of  Jaggard’s  piratical  collection,  stated  more  in  detail, 
were  as  follows  (the  order  being  that  of  the  “Globe”  ed.) ; 

I.,  II.  Shakespeare’s  Sonnets  138  and  144,  with  some  early  or  corrupt 
readings  (to  be  noted  in  our  ed.  of  the  Sonnets). 

III.  Longaville’s  sonnet  to  Maria  in  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  60  fol.  : “ Did  not 
the  heavenly  rhetoric  of  thine  eye,”  etc.  The  verbal  variations  in  the 
two  versions  (as  in  V.  and  XVI.)  are  tew  and  siignt. 

IV.  (I.  of  the  present  ed.). 

V.  The  sonnet  in  L.  L . L.  iv.  2.  109  fol.  : “ If  love  make  me  forsworn,” 
etc. 

VI. ,  VII.  (II.  and  IV.  of  this  ed.). 

VIII.  The  following  sonnet,  probably  by  Richard  Barnfield,  in  whose 
Poems:  In  diners  humors , 1598  (appended,  with  a separate  title-page,  to  a 
small  volume  containing  The  Encomion  of  Lady  Pecunia  and  The  Com- 
plaint of  Poetrie,for  the  Death  of  Libera/itie),  it  had  first  appeared,  with 
this  heading  : “To  his  friend  Maister  R.  L.  In  praise  of  Musique  and 
Poetrie :” 

“If  music  and  sweet  poetry  agree, 

As  they  must  needs,  the  sister  and  the  brother, 

Then  must  the  love  be  great  ’twixt  thee  and  me, 

Because  thou  lov’st  the  one,  and  I the  other. 

Rowland  to  thee  is  dear,  whose  heavenly  touch 
Upon  the  lute  doth  ravish  human  sense ; 

Spenser  to  me,  whose  deep  conceit  is  such 
As,  passing  all  conceit,  needs  no  defence. 

Thou  lov’st  to  hear  the  sweet  melodious  sound 
That  Phoebus’  lute,  the  queen  of  music,  makes ; 

And  I in  deep  delight  am  chiefly  drown’d 
Whenas  himself  to  singing  he  betakes. 

One  god  is  god  of  both,  as  poets  feign ; 

One  knight  loves  both,  and  both  in  thee  remain.” 

Barnfield  terms  these  poems  “fruits  of  unriper  years,”  and  expressly 
claims  their  authorship.  The  above  sonnet  is  the  first  in  the  collection, 
hoi  a this  and  XX.  are  omitted  in  the  second  edition  o { Lady  Pecuniay 
1605  ; but  so  also  are  nearly  all  of  the  “Poems  in  Divers  Humors,”  so 
that  no  substantial  argument  can  rest  upon  the  absence  of  the  two  P.  P . 
sonnets  from  that  edition  (Halliwell). 

IX. ,  X.  (III.  and  V.  of  this  ed.). 

XI,  The  following  sonnet,  probably  by  Bartholomew  Griffin,  in  whose 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM. 


205 

Fnlessa  more  Chaste  than  Kinde,  1596,  it  had  appeared  with  some  varia- 
tions :* 

“Venus,  with  young  Adonis  sitting  by  her 
Under  a myrtle  shade,  began  to  woo  him : 

She  told  the  youngling  how  god  Mars  did  try  her, 

And  as  he  fell  to  her,  so  fell  she  to  him. 

* Even  thus/  quoth  she,  ‘ the  warlike  god  embrac’d  me/ 

And  then  she  clipp’d  Adonis  in  her  arms ; 

‘Even  thus,’  quoth  she,  ‘the  warlike  god  unlac’d  me/ 

As  if  the  boy  should  use  like  loving  charms ; 

‘Even  thus/  quoth  she,  ‘he  seized  on  my  lips/ 

And  with  her  lips  on  his  did  act  the  seizure : 

And  as  she  fetched  breath,  away  he  skips, 

And  would  not  take  her  meaning  nor  her  pleasure. 

Ah,  that  I had  my  lady  at  this  bay. 

To  kiss  and  clip  me  till  I run  away!” 

XII.,  XIII.,  XIV.  (VI.,  VII.,  and  VIII.  of  this  ed.). 

XV.  Here  begin  the  “Sonnets  to  sundry  notes  of  Musicke”  (see  p. 
12  above)  with  the  following,  which  is  certainly  not  Shakespeare’s, 
though  it  is  not  found  elsewhere  : 

“ It  was  a lording’s  daughter,  the  fairest  one  of  three, 

That  liked  of  her  master  as  well  as  well  might  be, 

Till  looking  on  an  Englishman,  the  fair’st  that  eye  could  see, 

Her  fancy  fell  a-turning. 

Long  was  the  combat  doubtful  that  love  with  love  did  fight, 

To  leave  the  master  loveless,  or  kill  the  gallant  knight: 

To  put  in  practice  either,  alas,  it  was  a spite 
Unto  the  silly  damsel! 

But  one  must  be  refused ; more  mickle  was  the  pain 
That  nothing  could  be  used  to  turn  them  both  to  gain, 

For  of  the  two  the  trusty  knight  was  wounded  with  disdain: 

Alas,  she  could  not  help  it! 

Thus  art  with  arms  contending  was  victor  of  the  day, 

Which  by  a gift  of  learning  did  bear  the  maid  away : 

Then,  lullaby,  the  learned  man  hath  got  the  lady  gay; 

For  now  my  song  is  ended.” 

XVI.  Dumaiu’s  poem  to  Kate,  in  L.  L.  Z.  iv  3.  101  fol.  : “On  a dav 
— alack,  the  day  3”  etc.  The  chief  variations  are  noted  in  our  ed.  of 
Z.  L.  L.  p.  149. 

XVII.  The  following,  from  Thomas  Weelkes’s  Madrigals , 1597.  pretty 
certainly  not  Shakespeare’s  :f 

“ My  flocks  feed  not, 

My  ewes  breed  not, 

My  rams  speed  not, 

All  is  amiss; 


# Instead  of  lines  9-14,  the  following  are  given  in  the  Fidessa  : 

“ But  he  a wayward  boy  refusde  her  offer, 

And  ran  away,  the  beautious  Queene  neglecting: 

Shewing  both  folly  to  abuse  her  proffer, 

And  all  his  sex  of  cowardise  detecting. 

Oh  that  I had  my  mistris  at  that  bay, 

To  kisse  and  clippe  me  till  I ranne  away!” 
t Weelkes  was  the  composer  of  the  music,  but  not  necessarily  the  author  of  the  words. 
The  poem  is  found  also  in  England's  Helicon , 1600,  with  the  title  “The  Unknown 
Sheepheard's  Complaint,”  and  subscribed  “ Ignoto  ” (Halliwell). 


206 


NO  TE5. 


XVIII.  (X. 
XIX.  The  f 
me,”  etc.,  with 
ter  Raleigh  :* 


Love’s  denying, 

Faith’s  defying, 

Heart’s  renying, 

Causer  of  this. 

All  my  merry  jigs  are  quite  forgot, 

All  my  lady’s  love  is  lost,  God  wot ; 

Where  her  faith  was  firmly  fix’d  in  love, 
There  a nay  is  plac’d  without  remove. 

One  silly  cross 
Wrought  all  my  loss; 

O frowning  Fortune,  cursed,  fickle  dame  i 
For  now  I see 
Inconstancy 

More  in  women  than  in  men  remain. 


In  black  mourn  I, 

All  fears  scorn  I, 

Love  hath  forlorn  me. 

Living  in  thrall : 

Heart  is  bleeding, 

All  help  needing, 

O cruel  speeding, 

Fraughted  with  gall. 

My  shepherd’s  pipe  can  sound  no  deal; 

My  wether’s  bell  rings  doleful  knell ; 

My  curtal  dog,  that  wont  to  have  play’d, 

Plays  not  at  all,  but  seems  afraid ; 

My  sighs  so  deep 

Procure  to  weep,  . 

In  howling  wise,  to  see  my  doleful  plight. 

How  sighs  resound 

Through  heartless  ground,  . 

Like  a thousand  vanquish’d  men  in  bloody  fight  5 

Clear  wells  spring  not, 

Sweet  birds  sing  not, 

Green  plants  bring  not 
Forth  their  dye ; 

Herds  stand  weeping, 

Flocks  all  sleeping, 

Nymphs  back  peeping 
F earfully : 

All  our  pleasure  known  to  us  poor  swains, 

All  our  merry  meetings  on  the  plains, 

All  our  evening  sport  from  us  is  fled, 

All  our  love  is  lost,  for  Love  is  dead. 

Farewell,  sweet  lass, 

Thy  like  ne’er  was 

For  a sweet  content,  the  cause  of  all  my  moan : 
Poor  Corydon 

Must  live  alone;  . 

Other  help  for  him  I see  that  there  is  none. 


)f  this  ed.).  _ ..  . , 

llowing  imperfect  version  of  Marlowe’s  “ Come,  live  with 
Love's  Answer  (a  mere  fragment),  attributed  to  Sir  Wal- 


* For  complete  copies  of  both  these  poems  see  our  ed.  of  M W p 150. 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM, 


207 


“ Live  with  me,  and  be  my  love, 

And  we  will  all  the  pleasures  prove 
That  hills  and  valleys,  dales  and  fields, 

And  all  the  craggy  mountains  yields. 

There  will  we  sit  upon  the  rocks, 

And  see  the  shepherds  feed  their  flocks, 

By  shallow  rivers,  by  whose  falls 
Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals. 

There  will  I make  thee  a bed  of  roses, 

With  a thousand  fragrant  posies, 

A cap  of  flowers,  and  a kirtle 
Embroider’d  all  with  leaves  of  myrtle. 

A belt  of  straw  and  ivy  buds, 

With  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs; 

And  if  these  pleasures  may  thee  move, 

Then  live  with  me  and  be  my  love. 

Love’s  Answer. 

If  that  the  world  and  love  were  young, 

And  truth  in  every  shepherd’s  tongue, 

These  pretty  pleasures  might  me  move 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love.'’ 

XX.  The  following  (except  lines  27,28)  from  Richard  Barnfield’s  Poems: 
In  divers  humors , 1598  (the  first  28  lines  also  found  in  England's  Helicon , 
1600,  where  it  is  subscribed  “ Ignoto  ”)  : 

“ As  it  fell  upon  a day 
In  the  merry  month  of  May, 

Sitting  in  a pleasant  shade 
Which  a grove  of  myrtles  made. 

Beasts  did  leap,  and  birds  did  sing, 

Trees  did  grow,  and  plants  did  spring ; 

Every  thing  did  banish  moan, 

Save  the  nightingale  alone ; 

She,  poor  bird,  as  all  forlorn, 

Lean’d  her  breast  up-till  a thorn, 

And  there  sung  the  dolefull’st  ditty, 

That  to  hear  it  was  great  pity: 

4 Fie,  fie,  fie,’  now  would  she  cry  ; 

‘ Tereu,  tereu!’  by  and  by  ; 

That  to  hear  her  so  complain, 

Scarce  I could  from  tears  refrain  ; 

For  her  griefs,  so  lively  shown, 

Made  me  think  upon  mine  own. 

Ah,  thought  I,  thou  mourn’ st  in  vain  ! 

None  takes  pity  on  thy  pain  : 

Senseless  trees  they  cannot  hear  thee  ; 

Ruthless  beasts  they  will  not  cheer  thee  : 

King  Pandion  he  is  dead ; 

All  thy  friends  are  lapp’d  in  lead; 

All  thy  fellow  birds  do  sing, 

Careless  of  thy  sorrowing. 

Even  so,  poor  bird,  like  thee, 

None  alive  will  pity  me. 

Whilst  as  fickle  Fortune  smil'd, 

Thou  and  I were  both  beguil’d. 

Every  one  that  flatters  thee 
Is  no  friend  in  misery. 


208 


NOTES. 


Words  are  easy,  like  the  wind ; 

Faithful  friends  are  hard  to  find : 

Every  man  will  be  thy  friend 
Whilst  thou  hast  wherewith  to  spend ; 

But  if  store  of  crowns  be  scant, 

No  man  will  supply  thy  want. 

If  that  one  be  prodigal, 

Bountiful  they  will  him  call, 

And  with  such-like  flattering, 

‘ Pity  but  he  were  a king 
If  he  be  addict  to  vice, 

Quickly  him  they  will  entice ; 

If  to  women  he  be  bent, 

They  have  at  commandement : 

But  if  Fortune  once  do  frown, 

Then  farewell  his  great  renown  ; 

They  that  fawn’d  on  him  before 
Use  his  company  no  more. 

He  that  is  thy  friend  indeed. 

He  will  help  thee  in  thy  need: 

If  thou  sorrow,  he  will  weep; 

If  thou  wake,  he  cannot  sleep; 

Thus  of  every  grief  in  heart 
He  with  thee  doth  bear  a part. 

These  are  certain  signs  to  know 
Faithful  friend  from  flattering  foe.” 

Some  editors  have  divided  the  above  poem,  making  the  first  28  lines 
(or  the  portion  printed  in  England's  Helicon)  a separate  piece  ; but  the 
whole  (except  lines  27,  28)  forms  a continuous  “ Ode  ” in  Barnfield’s 
book,  and  there  is  no  real  division  in  the  1599  ed.  of  the  P.P.  The 
editors  have  been  misled  by  the  printer’s  arrangement  of  his  matter  in 
that  little  book,  where  each  page  has  an  ornamental  head-piece  and  tail- 
piece, with  unequal  portions  of  text  between.  The  first  14  lines  of  this 
poem  are  on  one  page,  the  next  12  on  the  next  page  (27  and  28  want- 
ing), the  next  14  on  the  next,  and  the  last  16  on  the  next.  As  there  is 
something  like  a break  in  the  piece  between  the  3d  and  4th  pages  as 
thus  arranged,  it  might  appear  at  first  sight  that  it  was  a division  be- 
tween poems  rather  than  in  a poem  ; but,  as  Mr.  Edmonds  has  pointed 
out,  “ the  poet’s  object  being  to  show  the  similarity  of  his  griefs  to  those 
of  the  nightingale,  he  devotes  the  lines  ending  with  sorrowing  to  the 
bird,”  and  then  “takes  up  his  own  woes  with  the  line  Whilst  as  fickle 
fortune  smil'd , and  enlarges  upon  them  to  the  end  of  the  ode.” 

The  editor  of  England's  Helicon  seems  to  have  taken  the  first  two 
pages  from  the  P.  />.,  supposing  them  to  be  a complete  poem  ; but  feel- 
ing that  it  ended  too  abruptly,  he  added  the  couplet, 

“ Even  so,  poore  bird  like  thee, 

None  a-live  will  pitty  mee,” 

to  round  it  off. 

It  may  be  added  that  his  signing  the  poem  “ Ignoto  shows  that  he 
was  not  aware  it  was  Barnfield’s,  and  did  not  consider  that  its  appear- 
ance in  the  P.  P.  proved  it  to  be  Shakespeare’s;  and  the  same  may  be 
said  of  XVII.,  the  Helicon  copy  of  which  is  evidently  from  the  P.  P, 
not  from  Weelkes.  On  the  other  hand,  XVI.  of  the  P.  P.  ( On  a day, 
alack  the  day,”  etc.),  taken  from  Z.  Z.  Z.,  is  given  in  the  Helicon  with 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM. 


209 


Shakespeare’s  name  attached  to  it.  Furnivall  says  : “Mr.  Grosart  has 
shown  in  his  prefaces  to  his  editions  of  Barnfield’s  Poems  and  Griffin’s 
Fidessa  that  there  is  no  reason  to  take  from  the  first  his  Ode  (XX.)  and 
his  Sonnet  (VIII.),  or  from  the  second  his  Venus  and  Adonis  Sonnet 
(XI.),  many  of  whose  readings  the  Passionate  Pilgrim  print  spoils.”  See 
also  Mr.  Edmonds’s  able  plea  in  behalf  of  Barnfield’s  title  to  VIII.  and 
XX.  in  the  preface  tb  his  reprint  (London,  1870)  of  the  1599  ed.  of  the 
P.  P.  p.  xiv.  fol. 

I.  — 1.  Cytherea.  Cf.  T.  of  S.  ind.  2.  53,  W.  T.  iv.  4.  122,  and  Cymb . ii. 

2.  14. 

9.  Conceit.  Understanding.  Cf.  Pericles , p.  145. 

10.  Figur'd.  Expressed  by  signs.  Coll,  conjectures  “sugar’d.” 

II.  — 4.  Tarriance.  The  word  occurs  again  in  T.  G.  of  V.  ii.  7.  90. 

6.  Spleen.  Heat ; as  often  in  a figurative  sense.  Cf.  K.  John , p.  14 1. 

12.  Wistly.  Wistfully.  See  on  V.  and  A.  343. 

13.  Whereas.  Where.  See  Pericles,  p.  136,  or  2 Hen.  VI.  p.  153. 

III.  The  2d  line  is  wanting  in  all  the  editions ; the  omission  being 
first  marked  by  Malone. 

3.  Dove.  See  on  V.  and  A.  153. 

5.  Steep-up . Cf.  Sonn.  7.5:  “the  steep-up  heavenly  hill.”  We  find 
steep-down  in  Oth.  v.  2.  280. 

11.  Ruth.  Pity.  Cf.  Rich.  II.  p.  199. 

IV.  This  may  be  Shakespeare’s.  Cf.  Sonn.  138. 

3.  Blighter  than  glass,  etc.  Steevens  quotes  the  following  lines  “ writ- 
ten under  a lady’s  name  on  an  inn  window 

“ Quam  digna  inscribi  vitro,  cum  lubrica,  laevis, 

Pellucens,  fragilis,  vitrea  tota  nites!” 

14.  Out-burneth.  Sewell  has  “ out  burning.” 

V.  This  is  probably  not  Shakespeare’s. 

1.  Vaded.  Faded.  Cf.  vii.  2 below.  See  also  Rich.  II.  p.  157,  note 
on  Faded. 

3.  Timely.  Early.  Cf.  A.  and  C.  p.  188. 

8.  For  why.  Because.  See  on  R.  of  L.  1222.  The  old  eds.  have 
“ lefts  ” for  left' st  in  both  8 and  9.  Cf.  Gr.  340. 

VI.  This  may  possibly  be  Shakespeare’s.  In  the  eds.  of  1599  and 
1612  it  is  printed,  as  here,  in  twelve  lines.  Malone  and  others  make 
twenty  of  it. 

2.  Pleasance.  Pleasure.  Cf.  Oth.  p.  180. 

4.  Brave.  Fair,  beautiful.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  154. 

VII.  Probably  not  Shakespeare’s ; perhaps  by  the  same  author  as  V. 

I.  Doubtful.  A copy  of  this  poem,  said  to  be  from  an  ancient  MS. 

and  published  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  vol.  xxii.  p.  521,  has  “ fleet- 

o 


2 10 


NOTES. 


ing  ” for  doubtful  both  here  and  in  5 below.  In  3 it  has  “ almost  in  the 
bud”  for  first  it  gins  to  bud ; in  4,  “that  breaketh  ” for  that  's  broken; 
in  7,  “ As  goods,  when  lost,  are  wond’rous  seldom  found  in  8 “ can 
excite”  for  will  refresh,  and  in  10  “unite”  for  redress ; in  11  “once,  is 
ever  ” for  once  's  forever  ; and  in  12  “ pains  ” for  pain. 

A second  copy,  “from  a corrected  MS.,”  appeared  in  the  same  maga- 
zine, vol.  xxx.  p.  39.  The  readings  are  the  same  as  in  the  other  copy, 
except  that  it  has  “a  fleeting”  for  “and  fleeting”  in  1,  and  “fading” 
for  vaded  in  8. 

7.  Seld.  Seldom.  Cf.  T.  and  C.  iv.  5.  150:  “As  seld  I have  the 
chance.”  We  find  “seld-shown”  in  Cor.  ii.  1.  229. 

VIII.  Probably  not  Shakespeare’s.  All  recent  eds.  make  the  last  three 
stanzas  a separate  poem  ; but  this  is  unquestionably  a mistake.  See  Ad- 
dendu7n,  p.  214  below. 

3.  Dajf'd  me.  Put  me  off,  sent  me  away.  See  Much  Ado,  p.  138  ; and 
cf.  L.  C.  297. 

4.  Descant.  Comment ; as  in  Rich.  III.  i.  1.  27.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  1 134. 

8.  NHL  Will  not.  Cf.  Ham.  p 259. 

9.  'T  maybe.  Steevens  says:  “I  will  never  believe  any  poet  could 
begin  two  lines  together  with  such  offensive  elisions.  They  may  both  be 
omitted  without  injury  to  sense  or  metre.” 

12.  As  take.  Cf.  Gr.  112. 

14.  Charge  the  watch.  Probably  = accuse  or  blame  the  watch  (for  mark- 
ing the  time  so  slowly). 

17.  Philomela.  The  nightingale.  See  on  R.  of  L.  1079.  The  Camb. 
editors  conjecture  that  sits  and  should  be  omitted ; and  they  are  proba- 
bly right. 

21.  Pack'd.  Sent  packing,  gone.  Ct.  Rich.  III.  i.  I.  146:  “Till  George 
be  pack’d  with  post-horse  up  to  heaven.” 

23.  Solace,  solace.  The  old  eds.  have  “solace  and  solace;”  corrected 
by  Malone. 

27.  Moon.  The  old  eds.  have  “ houre  corrected  by  Malone. 

30.  Short,  night,  to-night.  Shorten  to-night,  O night.  For  the  antithe- 
sis, cf.  Cymb.  i.  6.  200  : 

“ I shall  short  my  word 
By  lengthening  my  return." 

IX.  This  may  perhaps  be  Shakespeare’s.  Furnivall  says:  “That  ‘to 
sin  and  never  for  to  saint,’  and  the  whole  of  the  poem,  are  by  some 
strong  man  of  the  Shakspere  breed.” 

1.  Whenas.  When.  See  on  V.andA.  999. 

2.  Stall'd.  Got  as  in  a stall , secured.  Cf.  Cymb.  iii.  4.  ill  : 

“when  thou  hast  ta’en  thy  stand, 

The  elected  deer  before  thee.” 

4.  Partial  fancy  like.  For  fancy— love,  see  on  R.  of  L.  200.  The  early 
•eds.  have  “fancy  (party  all  might”).  Malone  gave  in  1780  “fancy,  par- 
tial tike,”  but  later  from  an  ancient  MS.  “ fancy,  partial  like.”  St.  con- 
jectures “ fancy  martial  might ;”  the  Camb.  editors  read  “ fancy,  martial 


2 1 1 


THE  PHOENIX  AND  THE  TURTLE . 


wight”  (a  conjecture  of  Malone’s);  and  W.“  fancy’s  partial  might. 
The  text  is  from  a MS.  in  the  possession  of  Coll.  As  Schmidt  notes, 
like  is  “almost  =love;”  as  in  A.  Y.  L.  in.  2.  431.  K-  7oh",  "•  5U> 

R T Filed  talk!"  Studied  or  polished  language  ” (Malone).  See  L.  L.  L. 

P'  I!.3*//.6  T'he^early^sfhave  “sale  corrected  by  Malone,  from  his 
old  MS.,  which  also  has  “thy”  for  her.  The  editors  have  generally 
adopted  “thy,”  but  the  other  reading  magr  be  =“  praise  her  person 
highly,  as  a salesman  praises  his  wares  (W.).  CL  T.  and  C.  iv.  i.JS  ■ 

“ Wee’ll  but  commend  what  we  intend  to  sell L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  240  : I o 
things  of  sale  a seller’s  praise  belongs  Sonn.  21.  14 : “ I will  not  praise 

The  reading  of  Malone’s  MS.  for  the  “calme  yer”  of 

the  old  eds. 

20.  Ban . Curse.  See  on  V.  and  A.  326.  „ 

28.  In  thy  lady's  ear.  Malone  reads  “always  in  hei  ear. 

30.  Humble-trne . First  hyphened  by  St. 

42.  Nought.  On  the  rhyme  with  oft , cf.  Lear, , p.  193*  3°9”313* 

In Rich.  III.  iii.  6.  13  and  Mach.  iv.  1.  70,  nought  rhymes  with thou(fL 
43-46.  Think  women  still , etc.  Expect  women  always,  etc.  Malone 
reads  from  the  old  MS.  thus  : 

“Think:  women  love  to  match  with  men, 

And  not  to  live  so  like  a saint: 

Here  is  no  heaven  ; they  holy  then^ 

Begin,  when  age  doth  them  attaint.” 

The  early  eds.  have  in  45,  46  : 

“ There  is  no  heaven,  by  holy  then. 

When  time  with  age  shall  them  attaint.” 

The  reading  in  the  text  is  due  to  W.,  and  gives  a clear  meaning  with  very 
slight  changes  in  the  old  text.  In  a passage  so  corrupt,  emendation  is 
but  guess-work  at  best ; but  this  seems  to  us  a happier  guess  than  that 
of  the  writer  of  Malone’s  MS.  We  do  not,  however,  think  it  necessaiy 
to  put  “seek”  for  still  in  43,  as  W.  does.  , „ 

co.  Lest  that.  The  early  eds.  have  “ Least  that.  Malone  reads  For 
if”  from  his  MS.,  connecting  the  line  with  what  follows. 

ci.' To  round  me  i’  the  ear.  To  whisper  in  my  ear.  Cf.  A.  John, 
p irt,  note  on  Founded.  The  early  eds.  have  “ on  th’  are  and  on  th 
ere.”  Malone  changed  “on”  to  f in  1780 ; but  in  179°  he  read  ring 
mine  ear.”  Coll,  has  “warm  my  ear”  (from  his  old  MS.).  W.  reads 
“ She’ll  not  stick  to  round  me  i’  th’  ear.”^  H.  follows  Coll. 

54 . Bewray’d.  Disclosed,  exposed.  Sec  on  R.  of  L.  1695. 


THE  PHCENIX  AND  THE  TURTLE. 

The  title-page  of  Chester’s  Loves  Martyr , after  referring  at  some  length 
to  that  poem  and  “the  true  legend  of  famous  King  Arthur,  which  fol- 


212 


NOTES. 


lows  it  continues  thus:  “ To  these  are  added  some  new  compositions  of 
seuerall  moderne  Writers  whose  names  are  subscribed  to  their  seuerall 
worker,  vfon  the  first  subsect:  viz.  the  Phcenix  and  Turtle  ” 

title-page,' as>follows)-)k  theSC  “COmP0sitions”  has  a separate 

HEREAFTER  | FOLLOW  DIVERSE  | Poetical!  Essaies  on  the 

S/T/  f"  1 |,eCt  V'Z  : th-e  TurtU  ahd  I Done  by  the  best  and 

chsefest  of  our  | moderne  writers,  with  their  names  sub-  I scribed  to  their 
particulai  workes : | inner  before  extant.  | And  (now  first)  consecrated 

sl/inlf  Puer-lly,’  l tU  loue  and  merite  of  the  true-noble  Knight,  \ 
Sir  Iohn  Sahsburie.  | Dtgnum  laude  virum  Musa  vetat  mori.  I fwood- 
cut  of  anchor]  Anchora  Sfei.  | MDCI.  1 1 

Among  these  poems  are  some  by  Marston,  Chapman,  and  Ben  Jonson. 

Malone  has  no  doubt  of  the  genuineness  of  The  Phcenix  and  the  Turtle 
w says:  1 here  is  no  other  external  evidence  that  these  verses  are 
Shakespeare  s than  their  appearance  with  his  signature  in  a collection 
Oi  poems  published  in  London  while  he  was  living  there  in  the  height  of 
his  reputation  The  style,  however,  is  at  least  a happy  imitation  Sf  his, 
especially  in  the  bold  and  original  use  of  epithet.”  Dowden  writes  us 
that  he  has  now  no  doubt  that  the  poem  is  Shakespeare’s  (cf.  his  Primer, 
ed.  1078,  p.  1 12) ; and  Furnivall  also  believes  it  to  be  genuine. 

Dr.  Grosart  (see  his  introduction  to  the  New  Shaks.  Soc.  ed.  of  Ches- 
ter s Loves  Martyr)  sees  a hidden  meaning  in  this  poem  and  those  asso- 
ciated with  it  in  Chester’s  book.  “The  Phcenix  is  a person  and  a wom- 
an, and  the  T u irtle-dove  a person  and  a male  ; and  while,  as  the  title-page 
puts  it,  the  poet  is  ‘ Allegorically  shadowing  the  truth  of  Love,’  it  is  a 
genuine  story  of  human  love  and  martyrdom  (Love's  Martyr).  . . . No  one 
at  all  acquainted  with  what  was  the  mode  of  speaking  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
t0c  ™e.veryJast> w51]  hesitate  in  recognizing  her  as  the  Rosalin  and  Phcenix 

ol  Robert  Chester,  and  the  ‘moderne  writers’  of  this  book So  with 

thp  T nr  tie- dove,  epithet  and  circumstance  and  the  whole  bearing  of  the 
Poems  make  us  think  of  but  one  pre-eminent  man  in  the  Court  of  Eliza- 
beth . . . and  d will  be  felt  that  only  of  the  brilliant  but  impetuous,  the 
greatly-dowered  but  rash,  the  illustrious  but  unhappy  Robert  Devereux 
second  Earl  of  Essex,  could  such  splendid  things  have  been  thought.” 

Dr.  Grosart  believes  The  Phcenix  and  the  Turtle  to  be  Shakespeare’s 
and  calls  it  “priceless  and  unique .”  He  adds:  “Perhaps  Emerson’s 
words  on  Shakespeare’s  poem  as  well  represent  its  sphinx -character 
t°1]h1?i  most  caPable  critics,  as  any  [preface  to  Parnassus , 1875]  : 
i should  like  to  have  the  Academy  of  Letters  propose  a prize  for  an 
essay  on  Shakespeare’s  poem,  Let  the  bird  of  loudest  lay,  and  the  Thre?ios 
with  which  it  closes,  the  aim  of  the  essay  being  to  explain,  by  a historical 
research  into  the  poetic  myths  and  tendencies  of  the  age  in  which  it  was 

* is  a point  in  favour  of  their  being  Shakespeare’s  which,  so  far  as  we  are  aware, 
other  cities  have  overlooked  ; and  it  seems  to  us  of  some  importance.  It  must  be  borne 
in  rmnd  that  Chester  s book  was  not  a publisher’s  piratical  venture,  like  The  Passionate 
Pugrim,  but  the  reputable  work  of  a gentleman  who  would  hardly  have  ventured  to  in- 
sult his  patron  to  whom  he  dedicates  it,  by  palming  off  anonymous  verses  as  the  contri- 
bution of  a well-known  poet  of  the  time. 


THE  PH CE NIX  AND  THE  TURTLE . 


213 


written,  the  frame  and  allusions  of  the  poem.  I have  not  seen  Chester1  s 
Love's  Martyr  and  “ the  Additional  Poems  ” (1601),  in  which  it  appeared. 
Perhaps  that  book  will  suggest  all  the  explanation  this  poem  requires. 
To  unassisted  readers,  it  would  appear  to  be  a lament  on  the  death  of  a 
poet,  and  of  his  poetic  mistress.  But  the  poem  is  so  quaint,  and  charm- 
ing in  diction,  tone,  and  allusions,  and  in  its  perfect  metre  and  harmony, 
that  I would  gladly  have  the  fullest  illustration  yet  attainable.-  I consider 
this  piece  a good  example  of  the  rule,  that  there  is  a poetry  foi  baids 
proper,  as  well  as  a poetry  for  the  world  of  readers.  This  poem,  if  pub- 
lished for  the  first  time,  and  without  a known  author’s  name,  would  find 
no  general  reception.  Only  the  poets  would  save  it.’ 

Mr.  Halliwell-Phillipps,  in  his  recent  Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shakespeare 
(2d  ed.  1882)  says  : “ It  was  towards  the  close  of  the  present  year,  1600, 
or  at  some  time  in  the  following  one,  that  Shakespeare  for  the  first  and 
only  time,  came  forward  in  the  avowed  character  of  a philosophical  writ- 
er.” After  giving  an  account  of  Chester’s  book,  he  adds : “ The  contri- 
bution of  the  great  dramatist  is  a remarkable  poem  in  which  he  makes 
a notice  of  the  obsequies  of  the  phoenix  and  turtle-dove  subservient  to 
the  delineation  of  spiritual  union.  It  is  generally  thought  that  Chester 
himself  intended  a personal  allegory,  but,  if  that  be  the  case,  there  is  noth- 
ing to  indicate  that  Shakespeare  participated  in  the  design,  nor  even  that 
he  had  endured  the  punishment  of  reading  Love's  Martyr .” 

1.  The  bird  of  loudest  lay . As  Dr.  Grosart  remarks,  this  is  not  the 
Phoenix , as  has  generally  been  assumed,  as  “ it  were  absurd  to  imagine  it 
could  be  called  on  to  ‘sing’  its  own  death,”  and  besides  it  is  nowhere 
represented  as  gifted  with  song. 

2.  The  sole  Arabian  tree.  Malone  cites  Temp . iii.  3.  22  : 

“Now  I will  believe 
That  there  are  unicorns;  that  in  Arabia 
There  is  one  tree,  the  phoenix’  throne ; one  phoenix 
At  this  hour  reigning  there.” 

He  adds  : “ This  singular  coincidence  likewise  serves  to  authenticate  the 
present  poem.”  The  tree  is  probably  the  palm,  the  Greek  name  of  which 
is  the  same  as  that  of  the  phoenix  poivd i). 

3.  Trumpet.  Trumpeter.  See  Ham . p.  176,  or  W.  T.  p.  168. 

4.  To.  For  its  use  with  obey , cf.  T.  and  C . p.  187. 

Dr.  Grosart,  who  takes  the  bird  to  be  the  nightingale,  says : “ I have 
myself  often  watched  the  lifting  and  tremulous  motion  of  the  singing 
nightingale’s  wings,  and  chaste  was  the  exquisitely  chosen  word  to  de- 
scribe the  nightingale,  in  reminiscence  of  the  classical  story.” 

5 Shrieking  harbinger.  The  screech-owl  (Steevens).  Cf.  A/.  N.  D. 

v.  1.383:  “ Whilst  the  screech-owl,  screeching  loud, 

Puts  the  wretch  that  lies  in  woe 
In  remembrance  of  a shroud/’ 

The  fever's  end  is  of  course  death. 

14.  That  defunctive  music  can.  “That  understands  funereal  music” 
(Malone).  For  this  can— know,  see  Wb.  Cf.  Chaucer,  C.  T.  5638  (ed. 

Tyrwhltt)  . <<  j wot  wel  Abraham  was  an  holy  man, 

And  Jacob  eke;  as  fer  as  ever  I can,”  etc. 


214 


NOTES. 


1 6.  His.  Its. 

17.  Treble-dated.  Living  thrice  as  long  as  man.  Steevens  quotes  Lu- 
cretius, v. 1053  : 

“Cornicum  ut  secla  vetusta. 

Ter  tres  aetates  humanas  garrula  vincit 
• Cornix.” 

18.  That  thy  sable  geitder  mak'st,  etc.  “Thou  crow  that  makest 
[change  in]  thy  sable  gender  with  the  mere  exhalation  and  inhalation 
of  thy  breath  ” (E.  W.  Gosse).  It  was  a popular  belief  that  the  crow 
could  change  its  sex  at  will. 

.25.  As.  That.  Cf.  R.  of  L.  1372  and  1420. 

32.  But  in  them  it  were  a wonder.  “ So  extraordinary  a phenomenon 
as  hearts  remote,  yet  not  asunder,  etc.,  would  have  excited  admiration, 
had  it  been  found  anywhere  else  except  in  these  two  birds.  In  them  it 
was  not  wonderful  ” (Malone). 

34.  Saw  his  right , etc.  “ It  is  merely  a variant  mode  of  expressing 
seeing  love-babies  (or  one’s  self  imaged)  in  the  other’s  eyes.  This  gives 
the  true  sense  to  mine  in  35  ” (Grosart). 

37.  Property.  Property  in  self,  individuality. 

43.  To  themselves.  Grosart  suggests  that  these  words  should  be  joined 
to  what  precedes. 

44.  Simple  were  so  well  cojnpounded.  That  is,  were  so  well  blended 
into  one. 

45.  That.  So  that.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  242. 

49.  Threne.  Threnody,  funeral  song.  It  is  the  Anglicized  threnos 
(Srpijvog),  with  which  the  following  stanzas  are  headed.  Malone  quotes 
Kendal’s  Poems,  1577  : 

“ Of  verses,  threnes,  and  epitaphs, 

Full  fraught  with  tears  of  teene.” 

A book  entitled  David's  Threanes  was  published  in  1620,  and  reprinted 
two  years  later  as  David's  Tears. 

67.  These  dead  birds.  That  these  birds  are  not  Elizabeth  and  Essex 
has  been  shown  clearly  in  Dr.  F.  J.  Furnivall’s  paper  “On  Chester’s 
Love's  Martyr"  in  Trans . of  New  Shahs.  Soc.  1877-79,  p.  451  fol. 

ADDENDUM. 

Passionate  Pilgrim,  VIII.  (p.  210).  Dowden  (in  his  Introduction  to 
the  “Griggs”  fac-simile  of  the  1599  ed.  of  P . P.)  gives  good  reasons  for 
not  dividing  this  poem,  but  neither  he  nor  any  other  critic  has  seen  that 
the  1599  ed.  proves  its  unity  beyond  a doubt.  The  first  two  stanzas  are 
on  one  page,  the  next  two  on  another,  and  the  last  stanza  on  a third ; but 
the  third  stanza  does  not  begin  with  the  large  initial  letter,  which  elsewhere 
in  the  book  is  used  to  mark  the  beginning  of  a poem.  We  may  add  that 
there  is  similar  typographical  evidence  in  the  1599  ed.  that  XX.  (cf.  p.  208 
above)  should  not  be  divided. 

Dowden  notes  that  in  the  1640  ed.  of  the  Poems , the  five  stanzas  of  VIII. 
appear  as  one  poem,  with  the  title  Loth  to  Depart.  Malone  (in  his  Supple- 
ment, 1780)  seems  to  have  been  the  first  editor  to  divide  it. 


INDEX  OF  WORDS  AND  PHRASES 
EXPLAINED. 


accorded  (=agreed),  198. 
acture,  201. 

addressed  (=ready),  196. 
adjunct,  184. 
adulterate,  196. 
advance  (=raise),  197. 
advised,  be,  176. 
advisedly,  185,  195,  197. 
afeard,  192. 
affection  (=lust),  187. 
alarms,  174.  . 
all  to  naught,  180. 
allow  (=approve),  198. 
all-too-timeless,  183. 
aloes,  202. 

amaze  (=bewilder),  177. 
anatomized,  195. 
and  for,  192. 
angry-chafing,  177. 
annexions,  201. 
annoy  (noun),  175,  192. 
antics,  187. 
appaid,  191. 

applying  wet  to  wet,  199. 
Arabian  tree,  213. 

Ardea  (accent),  182. 
arrive  (transitive),  190. 
as  (=that),  194,  214. 
askance  (verb),  189- 
aspect  (accent),  183. 
assays  (^attempts),  197,  200. 
astonished  ( = astounded  ), 
197. 

at  a bay,  179. 
at  gaze,  193. 

attired  in  discontent,  196. 
a-twain,  198- 
authorized  (accent),  200. 
a-work,  195. 
ay  me ! 1 79. 

balk  (=neglect),  189. 
bankrupt  (spelling),  175,  184. 
banning  (=cursing),  174, 195, 
21 1. 

bare  (noun),  200. 
barns  (verb),  191. 
bateless,  183. 


bate-breeding,  177. 
battle  (=battalion),  177. 
be  remembered,  189. 
beaded,  199. 
beguiled  (active),  196. 
beldam,  191. 
bells  (of  falcon),  187. 
beseeched,  201. 
beseems,  185. 
bewrayed,  197,  211. 
bid  a base,  173. 
bird  of  loudest  lay,  213. 
birth-hour’s  blot,  188. 
black  stage,  190. 
blasts  (intransitive),  183. 
blazoned,  201. 
blood  (^passion),  200. 
blue  windows,  175. 
blunt  (^=rude),  195. 
blunt  (=savage),  179. 
bollen,  194. 

bond  (=ownership),  184. 
borrowed  motion,  203. 
brave  (^beautiful),  209. 
braving  compare,  183. 
brokers  (—panders),  201. 
bulk  ( — chest),  187. 
burden-wise,  192. 

cabinet  (=nest),  179. 
can  (=know),  213- 
canker  (=worm),  177. 
careless  hand  of  pride,  199. 
carriage  (figurative),  199. 
carry-tale,  177. 
case  (=dress),  200. 
cautels,  203. 
chafe,  174. 

chaps  (spelling),  195. 
charactered  (accent),  190. 
charge  the  watch,  210. 
cheer  (—face),  185. 
cherish  springs,  191. 
cherubin,  203. 
churlish  (boar),  176. 
cipher  (= decipher),  190. 
city  (figurative),  201. 
civil  (=decorous),  203. 


clepes,  180. 
clip  (^embrace),  176. 
closure,  178. 
cloud-kissing  Ilion,  194. 
cloudy,  192. 
coasteth,  179. 
coat,  202. 

cockatrice1  dead-killing  eye, 
188. 

cold  fault,  177 
colour  (j>lay  upon),  187. 
combustious,  182- 
comfortable,  184. 
compact  of,  172. 
compare  (noun),  183. 
compassed  (^curved),  173. 
complain  on,  172,  176. 
complained  (transitive),  198. 
conceit  (=conception),  189, 
1 94- 

conceit  ( = understanding ), 
2°g.< 

conceited  ( — fanciful),  194, 
198- 

conclusion  ( = experiment ), 
193. 

conduct  (^conductor),  186. 
confounds  (=ruins),  184, 193, 
*95- 

congest,  202. 
conjures  (accent),  188. 
contemn  me  this,  173. 
contrives,  202. 

controlled  ( = restrained), 
187,  189. 

convert  ( intransitive  ),  188, 
189. 

convert  (rhyme),  188. 
convertite,  190. 
cope  him,  179. 
copesmate,  191. 
coucheth  (transitive),  187. 
counterfeit  (=likeness),  194. 
cranks  (=turns),  177. 
credent,  202. 
crest- wounding,  190. 
cries  some,  199. 
cuckoos,  191. 


2 1 6 INDEX  OF  WORDS  AND-  PHRASES  EXPLAINED . 


curious  (=careful),  178,  199. 
curled  hair,  191. 
curst,  179. 

Cytherea,  209. 

daffed,  203,  210. 
decease  (rhyme),  180. 
deep  regard,  194. 
defame  (noun),  190. 
defeature,  178. 
defunctive,  213. 
deprive  (=take  away),  193, 
197. 

descant  (^comment),  210. 
descant  (arsing),  192. 
diapason,  192. 

digression  (—transgression), 
185. 

dismount  (figurative),  202. 
dispense  with,  192,  194,  197. 
dispersed  (accent),  197. 
disports  (noun),  182. 
disputation  (metre),  185. 
distract  (accent),  201. 
done  (=ruined),  183,  198. 
doves  (of  Venus),  172,  182, 
209. 

dumps,. 192. 

ear  (=plough),  170. 
ecstasy  (^excitement),  179, 
200. 

effects,  196. 
element  (=sky),  196. 
embracements,  173. 
empty  eagle,  171. 
engine  of  her  thoughts,  174. 
enpatron,  201. 
ensue  (transitive),  187. 
envious  ^malicious),  178. 
exclaims  on,  180,  190. 
expired  (accent),  183. 
extincture,  203. 
extreme  (accent),  185. 
eyne,  177,  189,  193. 

fact  (=deed),  186. 
fair  (=beauty),  181. 
fair  fall,  175. 
falcon’s  bells,  187. 
fall  (=let  fall),  196. 
fancy  (=love),  185,  210. 
fancy  (=lover),  200,  201. 
fnstly,  200. 

fault  (in  hunting),  177. 
fear  (^frighten),  181. 
fear  (=object  of  fear),  186. 
fearful  (^full  of  fear),  177. 
feast-finding,  190. 
teat  (adverb;,  199. 
fee-simple,  my  own,  200. 
fence  (=guard),  183. 
fickle,  198. 


field  (play  upon),  183. 

fiery-pointed,  186. 

figured,  209. 

filed  talk,  2x1. 

fine  (=bring  to  an  end),  19 1. 

fire  (dissyllable),  174. 

flaws  (=gusts),  175. 

fluxive,  199. 

foil  (noun),  200. 

folly  {— wickedness),  191. 

fond  (—foolish),  180, 185, 192. 

fondling  (^darling),  173. 

for  (^because),  192. 

for  why,  193,  209. 

force  not  (=regardnot\  192. 

forced  to  content,  171. 

forestall  (^prevent),  190. 

forsworn,  178. 

frets  (noun),  192. 

from  (=away  from),  193. 

fruitless  (^barren),  178. 

fry  (= small  fry),  176. 

fulfilled  (=filled  full),  193. 

gage  (=risk),  184. 
gentry  (—gentle  birth),  188. 
gins  (=begins),  171. 
gives  her  sorrow  fire,  196. 
glisters,  173. 

go  about  (—attempt),  174. 
God  wot,  194. 
government,  194. 
grained  (bat),  200. 
grave  (=bury?),  189. 
grave  (=engrave),  174. 
graff,  192. 
grey,  172. 

gripe  (^griffin),  188. 
grisly,  191. 

had  gave,  176. 
hard-favoured,  172,  196. 
harmless  show,  195. 
hearsed,  189. 
heart’s  attorney,  174. 
heartless,  187. 
heave  her  napkin,  198. 
helpless,  176,  192. 
honey  (adjective),  171. 
honour  (=lordship),  173. 
hild  (=held),  193. 
his  (=its),  174,  188,  195,  214. 
his  (=of  him),  180. 

ill-nurtured,  172. 
imaginary,  194. 
imagination  (metre),  177. 
imperious  (=imperial),  180. 
imposthumes,  178. 
impleached,  201. 
in  (=on),  172. 

in  clay  (=in  the  grave),  189. 
in  hand  with,  180. 


in  post,  182. 

in  sadness  (=in  earnest),  178. 
incorporate,  176. 
insinuate  with,  180. 
instance  (=evidence\  195. 
insult  (=exult),  176. 
insulter,  176. 
intend  (=pretend),  184. 
intendments,  173. 
interprets,  194. 
intituled,  183. 
intrude  (=invade),  191. 
inventions,  194. 
invised,  201. 
invisible,  175. 

jade,  190. 

ken  (=sight),  192. 
key-cold,  197. 

kill,  kill!  177. 

kind  (^natural),  194. 

laid  (=lay),  198. 
land  (noun),  189. 
late  (=lately),  197,  202. 
laund,  178. 
laundering,  198. 
leaps  (rhyme),  173. 
leave  (=license),  176. 
lectures  (=lessons),  189. 
leisures,  201. 
let  (=forbear),  183. 
let  (=hinder),  186. 
let  (^hindrance),  189. 
levelled  (=aimed),  199,  202, 
203. 

like  (=as?),  187. 
limed,  183. 
lists  of  love,  176. 
liver  (seat  of  passion),  183. 
lode-star,  185. 
lover  (feminine),  198- 
love’s  golden  arrow,  180. 
lust  (^pleasure),  194. 
lust-breathed,  182. 
luxury  (=lust),  203. 

make  a saw,  197. 
manage  (noun),  200. 
manage  (of  horses),  176. 
mane  (plural),  173. 
map  (=picture),  186. 
margents,  184. 
marriage  (trisyllable),  185. 
mated  (=bewildered),  180. 
maund,  199. 
mean  (=means),  192. 
measure  (=dance),  182. 
mermaid  (—siren),  174,  178. 
miss  (—misbehaviour),  171. 
mistrustful,  178. 
moe,  195,  196,  199,  aoo. 


INDEX  OF  WO  EDS  AND  PHRASES  EXPLAINED.  217 


moiety,  182. 
moralize,  184. 
more  (=greater),  171. 
mortal  ( = death  - dealing ), 
176. 

mot  (=motto),  190. 
musing  (^wondering),  179. 
musits,  177. 

naked  (play  upon),  185. 
nameless,  187. 
napkin  ( = handkerchief  ), 
198. 

Narcissus,  172,  185. 
needle  (monosyllable),  186. 
nill,  210. 

nimble  notes,  192. 
note  (--notoriety),  202. 
note  (—stigma),  185. 
nought  (rhyme),  211. 
nought  to  do,  192. 
nuzzling,  181. 

obdurate  (accent),  173,  187. 

obey  to,  213. 

o’er-worn,  172. 

o’erstraw’d,  182. 

of  force,  201, 

on  (omitted),  187. 

on  ringing,  195. 

only  (transposed),  187. 

orchard  (=garden),  200. 

Orpheus,  188. 

orts,  192. 

outwards  (noun),  200. 
overseen  (=bewitched),  193. 
overseer  (of  will),  193. 
owe  (=own),  1741  !83,  i97> 
200. 

packed  (=sent  packing),  210. 
painted  cloth,  185. 
pale  (^enclosure),  173- 
pale  (^paleness),  176. 
paling  the  place,  etc.,  202. 
palmer,  193. 

Paphos,  182. 
parling,  184. 
passenger,  172. 
passions  (=grieves),  181. 
peeled  (spelling),  193. 
peers  (verb),  187. 
pelleted,  199. 
pelt  (verb),  194- 
pensived,  201. 

perplexed  ( = confounded ), 
190. 

Philomel,  192,  210. 
phoenix  (adjective),  200. 
phraseless,  201. 
pine  (=starve),  176. 
pioneer  (spelling),  194. 
pith  (= vigour),  171. 


plaining,  188. 
plaits  (noun),  183. 
plausibly,  198. 
pleasance,  209. 
pleasing  (passive),  192. 
point  (=appoint),  191. 
posied,  199. 
power  (plural),  186. 
preached  pure  maid,  203. 
precedent,  193. 
prefer  and  undertake,  199- 
present  (= instant),  193. 
pretended  (^intended),  188. 
pretty,  193-  . 

prick  (= dial-point),  190. 
prime  (= spring),  186. 
prone  (^headlong),  189. 
proof  (=armour),  177. 
proof  (^experience),  200. 
property,  214- 
proportioned,  190. 
prove  (^experience),  176. 
prove  (=try),  171. 
purified,  188. 
purled,  194. 

qualified,  187. 
quality  (of  gems),  201. 
questioned  ( ==  talked),  184. 
quittal,  185. 
quote  (—note),  190. 

rank  (adjective),  171. 
read  lectures,  189. 
reaves,  178. 
receipt,  189.  . 
remorse  (=pity),  173* 
rents  (=rends),  199. 
repeal  (=^recall),  189. 
repine  (noun),  175. 
reprove  (=disprove),  178- 
requiring  (— asking),  182. 
resolution  (metre),  186. 
respect  (=prudence),  185. 
respects  (= considerations), 
180. 

retire  (noun), 184. 
retire  (transitive),  186. 
retiring  (—returning),  191. 
re-worded,  198. 
rigol,  197. 
rose-cheeked,  170. 
round  (= whisper),  an. 
ruffle  (=bustle),  199- 
ruinate,  191. 
ruth  (=pity),  209. 

sad  (=serious),  185. 
saw  (=maxim),  185. 
sawn  (=sown  ?),  200- 
scape  (noun),  190. 
seared,  198. 

I seasoned  (figurative),  199. 


seated  from  the  way,  193- 
securely,  183. 
seeks  to,  185. 
seld,  210. 
senseless,  190. 
sensible  (^sensitive),  175. 
sepulchred  (accent),  190. 
set  a- work,  195. 
shame  (intransitive),  192, 
*93- 

sheaved,  199. 
shifting  (—deceitful),  191. 
shift  (^trickery),  191. 
shine  (noun),  175. 
shoot  (noun),  188. 
short  (verb),  210. 
shrewd  (=evil),  175. 
silly  (=innocent),  181,  184. 
simple  (=artless),  178. 
simple  (noun),  188. 

Sinon,  195. 
sistering,  198. 
sith,  178,  182. 
size,  199- 
slanderous,  192. 
sleided,  199. 
slips  (play  upon),  175- 
smoothing  (^-flattering',  191. 
sneaped,  186. 
sod  (=sodden),  196. 
sometime,  192,  199. 
sort  (=adapt),  193. 
sort  (=select),  191. 
sounds  (waters),  194. 
spend  their  mouths,  177. 
spirit  (monosyllable),  172, 
198,  202. 

spleen  (=heat),  209. 
spleens,  180. 

spotted  (^polluted),  190. 
spright,  172,  184,  197. 
spring  (=bud),  177,  191. 
stain  to  all  nymphs,  171. 
stalled,  2x0. 
steep-up,  209. 
stelled,  195. 
stillitory,  175. 
still-pining,  191. 
still-slaughtered,  185. 
sting  (—stimulus),  202. 
stole  (=robe),  203. 
stops  (of  musicalinstrument), 
192. 

stories  (verb),  180,  184. 
strand  (spelling),  195. 
strange  kinds,  193. 
strangeness,  175. 
struck  (spelling),  175. 
strucken,  185. 
suffered,  174. 

suggested  (=tempted),  183. 
supplicant,  202. 
supposed,  x86. 


supreme  (accent),  190. 
surcease,  197. 
suspect  (noun),  180. 
sweating  palm,  171. 
swooning  (spelling),  2C3. 
swounds,  195. 

take  truce,  171. 
taking  (noun),  187. 
tarriance,  209. 
tender  (^favour),  188. 
teen  (=sorrow),  178,  201. 
temperance  (=chastity),  191. 
tempering,  176. 
termless,  200. 
than  (=then),  195. 
thorough  (=through),  198. 
threaden,  199. 
threne,  214. 
timely  (nearly),  2^9. 
tired  (=attired),  172. 
tires  ( = feeds  ravenously), 
*7*- 

litan  (—sun),  172. 
that  (=sothat),  173, 176, 179, 
183,  185,  187, 194,  195,  197, 
200, 214. 

to  (=in  addition  to),  196. 
too  late  (=too  lately),  197. 
too  too,  184. 

told  (^counted),  173,  175. 
top  of  rage,  199. 


toward  (^forward),  182. 
towering  (in  falconry),  187. 
treatise  (=talk),  178. 
treble-dated,  214. 
trenched,  181. 
triumphing  (accent),  194. 
true  men,  178. 
trumpet  (--trumpeter),  213. 

unadvised,  195. 
unapproved,  199. 
uncouple,  177. 
uncouth  (=strange),  196. 
undertake  ( = guarantee  ), 
202. 

unexperient,  203. 
unhappy  ( — mischievous ), 
196. 

unkind  (=childless),  173. 
unlived,  197. 

unrecalling  (passive),  192. 
unseasonable,  188. 
unsounded,  198. 
urchin-snouted,  181. 

vaded,  209. 

vails  (^lowers),  173,  180. 
vastly,  197. 
venge,  197. 

villain  (= servant),  194. 
ward  (=bolt),  186. 


was  my  own  fee-simple, 
200. 

Wat  (=hare),  178. 
watch  of  woes,  191. 
water-galls,  196. 
weed  (= garment),  185. 
whenas,  180,  210. 
who  (=which),  173,  179,  i8r, 

186,  192. 

where  (=whereas),  190. 
whereas  (=where),  209. 
whether  ( monosyllable  ), 
,I73> 

wink  (=shut  the  eyes),  172, 

187,  188. 

wipe  (noun),  188. 
wistly,  174,  194,  209. 
withhold  (=detain),  176. 
within  his  danger,  177. 
wits  (rhyme),  179. 
wood  (=mad),  178. 
woodman  (^hunter),  188. 
wot,  194. 

worm  (=serpent),  180. 
wrack,  175. 

wrapped  ( = overwhelmed ), 
187. 

wreaked  (=revenged),  180. 
wretch  (as  a term  of  pity) 
178. 

writ  on  death,  175. 
wrong  the  wronger,  191. 


SHAKESPEARE. 

WITH  NOTES  BY  WM.  J.  ROLFE,  A.M. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  Tempest. 

Julius  Caesar. 

Hamlet. 

As  You  Like  it. 

Henry  the  Fifth. 

Macbeth. 

Henry  the  Eighth. 

A Midsummer -Night’s  Dream, 
Richard  the  Second. 

Richard  the  Third. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 
Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
Romeo  and  Juliet. 

Othello. 

Twelfth  Night. 

The  Winter’s  Tale. 

King  John. 

Henry  IT. 

Henry  IY. 

Illustrated. 

FRIENDLY 


King  Lear. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 
All ’s  Well  That  Ends  Well 
Coriolanus. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 
Cymbeline. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 
Measure  for  Measure. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona« 
Love’s  Labour ’s  Lost. 
Timon  of  Athens. 

Henry  YI.  Part  I. 

Henry  YI.  Part  II. 
Henry  YI.  Part  III. 
Troilus  and  Cressida. 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 
The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 
Poems. 

Sonnets. 

Titus  Andronicus. 


Part  I. 

Part  II. 

i6mo,  Cloth,  56  cents  per  vol. ; Paper,  40  cents  per  vol. 

EDITION,  complete  in  20  vols.,  i6mo,  Cloth,  $30  00; 
Half  Calf,  $ 60  00.  {Sold  only  in  Sets.) 


In  the  preparation  of  this  edition  of  the  English  Classics  it  has  been 
the  aim  to  adapt  them  for  school  and  home  reading,  in  essentially  the 
same  way  as  Greek  and  Latin  Classics  are  edited  for  educational  pur- 
poses. The  chief  requisites  are  a pure  text  (expurgated,  if  necessary), 
and  the  notes  needed  for  its  thorough  explanation  and  illustration. 

Each  of  Shakespeare’s  plays  is  complete  in  one  volume,  and  is^  pre- 
ceded by  an  Introduction  containing  the  “History  of  the^Play,  the 
“ Sources  of  the  Plot,”  and  “ Critical  Comments  on  the  Play. 


From  Horace  Howard  Furness,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Editor  of  the  “ Neiv 
Variorum  Shakespeare .” 

No  one  can  examine  these  volumes  and  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the 
conscientious  accuracy  and  scholarly  completeness  with  which  they  are 
edited.  The  educational  purposes  for  which  the  notes  are  written  Mi. 
Rolfe  never  loses  sight  of,  but  like  “a  well-experienced  archer  hits  the 
mark  his  eye  doth  level  at.” 


2 


Rolfe' s Shakespeare . 


From  F,  J.  Furnivall,  Director  of  the  New  Shakspere  Society , Lojulon. 

The  meiit  I see  in  Mr.  Rolfe’s  school  editions  of  Shakspere’s  Plays 
over  those  most  widely  used  in  England  is  that  Mr.  Rolfe  edits  the  plays 
as  works  of  a poet,  and  not  only  as  productions  in  Tudor  English.  Some 
editors  think  that  all  they  have  to  do  with  a plav  is  to  state  its  source 
and  explain  its  hard  words  and  allusions ; they  treat  it  as  they  would  a 
charter  or  a catalogue  of  household  furniture,  and  then  rest  satisfied. 
But  Mr.  Rolfe,  while  clearing  up  all  verbal  difficulties  as  carefully  as  any 
Dryasdust,  always  adds  the  choicest  extracts  he  can  find,  on  the  spirit 
and  special  note  ’ of  each  play,  and  on  the  leading  characteristics  of  its 
chief  personages.  He  does  not  leave  the  student  without  help  in  getting 
at  Shakspere’s  chief  attributes,  his  characterization  and  poetic  power. 
And  every  practical  teacher  knows  that  while  every  boy  can  look  out 
hard  words  in  a lexicon  for  himself,  not  one  in  a score  can,  unhelped, 
catch  points  of  and  realize  character,  and  feel  and  express  the  distinctive 
individuality  of  each  play  as  a poetic  creation. 

From  Prof.  Edward  Dowden,  LL.D.,  of  the  University  of  Dublin,  Au- 
thor of  “ Shakspere : His  Mind  a?id  Art.” 

I incline  to  think  that  no  edition  is  likely  to  be  so  useful  for  school  and 
home  reading  as  yours.  Your  notes  contain  so  much  accurate  instruc- 
tion, with  so  little  that  is  superfluous;  you  do  not  neglect  the  aesthetic 
study  of  the  play  ; and  in  externals,  paper,  type,  binding,  etc.,  you  make 
a book  “ pleasant  to  the  eye  ” (as  well  as  “ to  be  desired  to  make  one 
wise  ”) — no  small  matter,  I think,  with  young  readers  and  with  old. 

From  Edwin  A.  Abbott,  M.A.,  Author  of  “ Shakespearian  Grammar.” 

I have  not  seen  any  edition  that  compresses  so  much  necessary  infor- 
mation into  so  small  a space,  nor  any  that  so  completely  avoids  the  com- 
mon faults  of  commentaries  on  Shakespeare— needless  repetition,  super- 
fluous explanation,  and  unscholar-like  ignoring  of  difficulties. 

From  Hiram  Corson,  M.A.,  Professor  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  English 
Literature,  Cornell  University,  Ithaca , N.  Y. 

In  the  way  of  annotated  editions  of  separate  plays  of  Shakespeare,  for 
educational  purposes,  I know  of  none  quite  up  to  Rolfe’s. 


Rolfe's  Shakespeare . 


3 


From  Prof.  F.  J.  Child,  of  Harvard  University . 

I read  your  “ Merchant  of  Venice  ” with  my  class,  and  found  it  in  every 
respect  an  excellent  edition.  I do  not  agree  with  my  friend  White  in  the 
opinion  that  Shakespeare  requires  but  few  notes— that  is,  if  he  is  to  be 
thoroughly  understood.  Doubtless  he  may  be  enjoyed,  and  many  a hard 
place  slid  over.  Your  notes  give  all  the  help  a young  student  requires, 
and  yet  the  reader  for  pleasure  will  easily  get  at  just  what  he  wants. 
You  have  indeed  been  conscientiously  concise. 

Under  date  of  July  25,  1879,  Prof.  Child  adds:  Mr.  Rolfe’s  editions 
of  plays  of  Shakespeare  are  very  valuable  and  convenient  books,  whether 
for  a college  class  or  for  private  study.  I have  used  them  with  my 
students,  and  I welcome  every  addition  that  is  made  to  the  series.  They 
show  care,  research,  and  good  judgment,  and  are  fully  up  to  the  time  in 
scholarship.  I fully  agree  with  the  opinion  that  expeiienced  teachers 
have  expressed  of  the  excellence  of  these  books. 

From  Rev.  A.  P.  Peabody,  D.D.,  Professor  in  Harvard  University . 

I regard  your  own  work  as  of  the  highest  merit,  while  you  have  turned 
the  labors  of  others  to  the  best  possible  account.  I want  to  have  the 
higher  classes  of  our  schools  introduced  to  Shakespeare  chief  of  all,  and 
then  to  other  standard  English  authors  ; but  this  cannot  be  done  to  ad- 
vantage unless  under  a teacher  of  equally  rare  gifts  and  abundant  leisure, 
or  through  editions  specially  prepared  for  such  use.  I trust  that  you 
will  have  the  requisite  encouragement  to  proceed  with  a work  so  hap- 
pily begun. 

From  the  Examiner  and  Chronicle , N.  Y. 

We  repeat  what  we  have  often  said,  that  there  is  no  edition  of  Shake- 
speare which  seems  to  us  preferable  to  Mr.  Rolfe’s.  As  mere  specimens 
of  the  printer’s  and  binder’s  art  they  are  unexcelled,  and  their  other 
merits  are  equally  high.  Mr.  Rolfe,  having  learned  by  the  practical  ex- 
perience of  the  class-room  what  aid  the  average  student  really  needs  in 
order  to  read  Shakespeare  intelligently,  has  put  just  that  amount  of  aid 
into  his  notes,  and  no  more.  Having  said  what  needs  to  be  said,  he  stops 
there.  It  is  a rare  virtue  in  the  editor  of  a classic,  and  we  are  propor- 
tionately grateful  for  it. 


4 


Rolfe's  Shakespeare. 


From  the  N.  Y.  Times. 

This  work  has  been  done  so  well  that  it  could  hardly  have  been  done 
better.  It  shows  throughout  knowledge,  taste,  discriminating  judgment 
and,  what  is  rarer  and  of  yet  higher  value,  a sympathetic  appreciation  of 
the  poet’s  moods  and  purposes. 

From  the  Pacific  School  Journal , San  Francisco. 

This  edition  of  Shakespeare’s  plays  bids  fair  to  be  the  most  valuable 
aid  to  the  study  of  English  literature  yet  published.  For  educational 
purposes  it  is  beyond  praise.  Each  of  the  plays  is  printed  in  large  clear 
type  and  on  excellent  paper.  Every  difficulty  of  the  text  is  clearly  ex- 
plained by  copious  notes  It  is  remarkable  how  many  new  beauties  one 
may  discern  in  Shakespeare  with  the  aid  of  the  glossaries  attached  to 
these  books Teachers  can  do  no  higher,  better  work  than  to  incul- 

cate a love  for  the  best  literature,  and  such  books  as  these  will  best  aid 
them  in  cultivating  a pure  and  refined  taste. 

From  the  Christian  Union , N.  Y. 

Mr.W.  J.  Rolfe’s  capital  edition  of  Shakespeare  ...  by  far  the  best  edi- 
tion for  school  and  parlor  use  We  speak  after  some  practical  use  of  it 
in  a village  Shakespeare  Club.  The  notes  are  brief  but  useful ; and  the 
necessary  expurgations  are  managed  with  discriminating  skill. 

From  the  Academy , London. 

Mr.  Rolfe’s  excellent  series  of  school  editions  of  the  Plays  of  Shake- 
speare , . . they  differ  from  some  of  the  English  ones  in  looking  on  the 
plays  as  something  more  than  word  - puzzles.  They  give  the  student 
helps  and  hints  on  the  characters  and  meanings  of  the  plays,  while  the 
word-notes  are  also  full  and  posted  up  to  the  latest  date.  . . . Mr.  Rolfe 
also  adds  to  each  of  his  books  a most  useful  “ Index  of  Words  and 
Phrases  Explained.” 


Published  by  HARPER  & BROTHERS,  New  York. 

IW  Any  of  the  above  works  will  be  sent  by  mail , postage  prepaid , to  any  part  of  the 
United  States  or  Canada , on  receipt  of  the  fir  ice. 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

SELECT  POEMS  OF  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.  Edited, 
with  Notes,  by  William  J.  Rolfe,  A.M.,  formerly  Head 
Master  of  the  High  School,  Cambridge,  Mass.  Illus- 
trated. i6mo,  Paper,  40  cents  ; Cloth,  56  cents.  ( Uni- 
form with  Rolfe' s Shakespeare) 


The  carefully  arranged  editions  of  “ The  Merchant  of  Venice  ” and 
other  of  Shakespeare's  plays  prepared  by  Mr.  William  J.  Rolfe  for  the 
use  of  students  will  be  remembered  with  pleasure  by  many  readers,  and 
they  will  welcome  another  volume  of  a similar  character  fiorn  the  same 
source,  in  the  form  of  the  “ Select  Poems  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,”  edited 
with  notes  fuller  than  those  of  any  other  known  edition,  many  of  them 
original  with  the  editor.— Boston  Transcript. 

Mr.  Rolfe  is  doing  very  useful  work  in  the  preparation  of  compact 
hand-books  for  study  in  English  literature.  His  own  personal  culture 
and  his  long  experience  as  a teacher  give  him  good  knowledge  of  what 
is  wanted  in  this  way. — The  Congregationalist,  Boston. 

Mr.  Rolfe  has  prefixed  to  the  Poems  selections  illustrative  of  Gold- 
smith’s character  as  a man,  and  grade  as  a poet,  from  sketches  by  Ma- 
caulay, Thackeray,  George  Colman,  1 homas  Campbell,  John  Forster, 
and  Washington  Irving.  He  has  also  appended  at  the  end  of  the 
volume  a body  of  scholarly  notes  explaining  and  illustrating  the  poems, 
and  dealing  with  the  times  in  which  they  were  written,  as  well  as  the 
incidents  and  circumstances  attending  their  composition.  — Christian 
Intelligencer,  N.  Y. 

The  notes  are  just  and  discriminating  in  tone,  and  supply  all  that  is 
necessary  either  for  understanding  the  thought  of  the  several  poems,  or 
for  a critical  study  of  the  language.  The  use  of  such  books  in  the  school- 
room cannot  but  contribute  largely  towards  putting  the  study  of  English 
literature  upon  a sound  basis  ; and  many  an  adult  reader  would  find  in 
the  present  volume  an  excellent  opportunity  for  becoming  critically  ac- 
quainted with  one  of  the  greatest  of  last  century’s  poets. — Appleton's 
Journal,  N.  Y. 


Published  by  HARPER  & BROTHERS,  New  York. 

p W~  Sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid , to  any  part  of  the  United  States  or  Canada,  on 
receipt  of  the  price. 


THOMAS  GRAY. 

SELECT  POEMS  OF  THOMAS  GRAY.  Edited,  with 
Notes,  by  William  J.  Rolfe,  A.M.,  formerly  Head 
Master  of  the  High  School,  Cambridge,  Mass.  Illus- 
trated. Square  i6mo,  Paper,  40  cents ; Cloth,  56  cents. 
( Uniform  with  Rolfe’ s Shakespeare .) 


Mr.  Rolfe  has  done  his  work  in  a manner  that  comes  as  near  to  per- 
fection as  man  can  approach.  He  knows  his  subject  so  well  that  he  is 
competent  to  instruct  all  in  it ; and  readers  will  find  an  immense  amount 
of  knowledge  in  his  elegant  volume,  all  set  forth  in  the  most  admirable 
order,  and  breathing  the  most  liberal  and  enlightened  spirit,  he  being  a 
warm  appreciator  of  the  divinity  of  genius. — Boston  Traveller. 

The  great  merit  of  these  books  lies  in  their  carefully  edited  text,  and  in 
the  fulness  of  their  explanatory  notes.  Mr.  Rolfe  is  not  satisfied  with 
simply  expounding,  but  he  explores  the  entire  field  of  English  literature, 
and  therefrom  gathers  a multitude  of  illustrations  that  are  interesting  in 
themselves  and  valuable  as  a commentary  on  the  text.  He  not  only  in- 
structs, but  stimulates  his  readers  to  fresh  exertion  ; and  it  is  this  stimu- 
lation that  makes  his  labor  so  productive  in  the  school-room.- — Saturday 
Evening  Gazette , Boston. 

Mr.  William  J.  Rolfe,  to  whom  English  literature  is  largely  indebted 
for  annotated  and  richly  illustrated  editions  of  several  of  Shakespeare’s 
Plays,  has  treated  the  “ Select  Poems  of  Thomas  Gray  ” in  the  same  way 
— just  as  he  had  previously  dealt  with  the  best  of  Goldsmith’s  poems. — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

Mr.  Rolfe’s  edition  of  Thomas  Gray’s  select  poems  is  marked  by  the 
same  discriminating  taste  as  his  other  classics. — Springfield  Republican. 

Mr.  Rolfe’s  rare  abilities  as  a teacher  and  his  fine  scholarly  tastes  ena- 
ble him  to  prepare  a classic  like  this  in  the  best  manner  for  school  use. 
There  could  be  no  better  exercise  for  the  advanced  classes  in  our  schools 
than  the  critical  study  of  our  best  authors,  and  the  volumes  that  Mr.  Rolfe 
has  prepared  will  hasten  the  time  when  the  study  of  mere  form  will  give 
place  to  the  study  of  the  spirit  of  our  literature. — Louisville  Courier- 
Journal. 

An  elegant  and  scholarly  little  volume. — Christian  Intelligencer , N.  Y. 


Published  by  HARPER  & BROTHERS,  New  York. 

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receipt  of  the  price. 


